Entice Me
by xMoymoy
Summary: He sees him, he's drawn to him, he knows he's trouble, and yet, he can't keep himself from getting involved with him. AU. Terrorist.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: **I wanted this thing to only be a simple oneshot, about 15,000 words or so. But it turns out that, at 15,000 words, I'm only about half way through or something close to that, and at first I thought I'd continue to keep it as a oneshot, regardless of whether it turns out to be 25,000 or 30,000+ words, but since this fandom doesn't really have many other oneshots that long, I decided to split it.

The second part isn't finished, but for now read this.

**Warnings**: Argh, I don't like warnings—makes me feel like I have to spoil shit here. So just keep in mind that the mood somewhat dark; it's not cheery and contains some unhappiness. I might have douched the characters up a notch (especially Miyagi). Okay fine, here are some real warnings: swearing (_lots_ of it), prostitution, drug use, violence, and sexual situations (not really lemons, but whatever). And probably OOC.

* * *

Fucking weirdos. They were everywhere, absolutely scattered about and infesting the streets like a fucking plague. So persistent in spreading their mental, fucked up brains and ways around—they had simply no regard for _normal_ people who wanted to _stay_ normal. No—they publicly flaunted around their stupidity, as though it was a game. And maybe it was for them. Something like, ___hey, let's try and piss off as many sane people as possible—winner wins the pleasure of knowing they're the most fucked-up psycho of the city!_

Fucking weirdos.

And who specifically _were_ these people? Perhaps it referred to the slobbering drunkard staggering out of the bar to vomit his guts out and collapse right into the splatter of regurgitated shame and hopelessness. Or the psychotic hag standing over the bastard, flaunting her almost completely exposed tits, while trying to sell her two-yen body to married men.

Was there any hope for humanity?

Miyagi crushed his eighth cigarette under his shoe after he'd finished inhaling all the toxins and chemicals into his system. He fucking _finished_ the damn things for once in this shady, piece of shit city. He only ever finished his death sticks under the most severe circumstances. And clearly, this part of the city severely sucked.

The man wasn't normally like this, so frustrated, derogatory, and pessimistic. But he was not used to the decor of places like this, being near countless amounts of people who didn't give a damn about themselves or the world around them. It was getting to him, really testing his deteriorating patience.

Sticking his hand into his pocket, Miyagi made the attempt to ignore the hygiene-deprived homeless man hobbling along past him to fork out another drug roll. He was leaning against a streetlight, gazing frustratedly at a city map in front of him. Yeah, he got a bit lost; who the fuck cared.

His girlfriend give him shitty directions to meet her at some place. He'd probably dump her soon, politely and rationally of course, because after a few dates with the gal, Miyagi was thinking that they probably weren't the best for one another.

When the man fished out a nearly empty carton of cigarettes, he cursed audibly when he accidently pulled out a 5,000 yen bill that slipped onto the sidewalk. The slight breeze caused it to flutter away gently, fortunately only a few feet away from the annoyed man.

_Un_fortunately, before Miyagi had the chance to snatch his money bill back, a small, slender hand swiftly beat him to it.

He inwardly groaned, wanting badly to snap disdainfully at whichever fucktard chose to grab his shit away from him. The only thing that prevented him from doing so was the fact that he'd falsely put off the same dumbass demeanour as the rest of the many douche bags around this place.

"Hey," Miyagi almost sneered aggressively, glowering into a pair of very large, grey eyes."May I have that back?" he asked, putting his hand out. He had to put at least a small attempt at sounding polite... but that didn't prevent him from not saying please. He just wanted to light up and get the hell out of there and maybe meet up with a girlfriend that would most likely become an ex soon enough.

A teenage boy stood before him, stoic, expressionless, hardly dressed enough to be considered decent, and was holding _Miyagi's _yen between two skinny fingers. He waved the bill slightly before the man, tauntingly, almost teasingly, still regarding Miyagi without the slightest trace of emotion on his pretty face. Slowly, the boy's plush lips parted and he spoke with a voice that reflected the script of his face—unreadable.

"This yours?" he asked simply. He paused for a moment before adding, "Mister?" vocals dipping a tad deeper.

"Yes," Miyagi grumbled impatiently.

The kid was shorter than the elder, probably no older than sixteen. Soft-looking blond hair covered his head while worn, teared clothing covered his thin body. His arms and shoulders were entirely bare, having nothing more than a simple, white tank to cloth his torso, while very short and too tight shorts hugged his hips and crotch. The boy didn't appear like a cross-dresser, but the shorts might have been intended for girls to wear. The blond simply looked poor. And, with his shoulders, thighs, and part of his pale chest exposed, skanky. Miyagi wouldn't have been surprised if the kid ended up spending his life selling his body out to dirty drug users in order to survive.

Miyagi almost hated the way this place had him internally thinking like a negative jerk. But this end of the city had him constantly provoked to assume irrational shit about other people's lives. Jacktard-like? Yes. Made his situations better? Not really. But he did it anyway; he just made sure to keep it to himself, mostly.

"Well?" Miyagi asked irritably, waiting for the damn boy to place the friggin' cash back into his rightful possession. But no, the possibly brain-dead teenager casually stood there with a boney hip pointed out. He licked his already moist-appearing lips, grey eyes drilling him. Trying to pierce through his skull.

"Yeah, I heard you," the kid said, dragging his wet tongue slowly over the expanse of his bottom lip a second time, pointlessly.

Miyagi furthermore narrowed his dark eyes, wanting to snap at the kid to hurry the fuck up, but simply hitched a brow to hint his annoyance. He was waiting for the boy to hand it to him; why he didn't just grab it back, Miyagi wasn't sure. Maybe it was the blond's fragile appearance. Or that, for whatever reason, the kid gave off a vibe that it'd be a bad idea to get close to him.

Then, Miyagi watched as he felt his furrowed brow twitch, the brat moved his hand and stuck his damn bill underneath the waistline of his fucking shorts. He could see a tiny fold of it stick out a bit to tease and aggravate Miyagi even more so, right above the boy's crotch. He older man's deathly narrowed eyes traveled back up to the face of the blond, to find the same nonchalant demeanour, as though this kind if thing was practised daily. Piss off men by stuffing money down his crotch. Gee, what a hobby.

As Miyagi glared his suspicion at the kid, a blond brow soon rose questioningly at the elder. "You expect me to give this back?" the little shit asked. And really, what kind of question was that? Why the hell else would anyone be wasting their time with a street rat who was threatening to grab unrighteous possession of their money.

"Yes." It almost came out as a sigh. "I think that would be fair. It isn't your money, kid."

The boy hummed as though contemplating this. And it was just so tempting to simply snatch the money out of his waistband and leave. Only it was so close to another male's junk. And getting close to something like that was a disturbing thought.

"I don't have all day."

"In that case..." There was a sudden smugness about the way he looked at the older man. "Why don't you just take it? I won't stop you. Thought I'd just take the money for myself and get myself some food, but if you need it so badly..." He placed a hand on his narrow hip and waited.

God, a minor just insinuated Miyagi to do something bordering the lines of sexual, didn't he. Jail bait, fucking jail bait.

"Listen, brat, stop trying to play pointless games. Just hand it back so we can both get on with our day." There was just no way Miyagi was going to get close to this kid.

The boy bit his bottom lip and a small scowl crossed his face. What, did the kid not usually get rejected? Not everybody was a homo. Or lusted after under-aged cocky sons of bitches.

But the frown soon faded and the face was back to seeming illegible again. "Okay. Not a frontal person. Maybe you like the back..."

Miyagi deadpanned when the blond swiftly whipped the cash back into his hand and slipped it into the back of his shorts, over one ass cheek. Fucking hell, how did Miyagi even get into this situation? Who even knew if the boy had underwear on... fuck.

"Come on," the street rat beckoned. "Don't you want it?"

That little inquiry was most possibly suggesting more than one thing. But Miyagi got himself to ignore it.

And again, the boy ran his tongue over his lips—only this time, Miyagi noted the lust behind that motion.

But Miyagi didn't say anything and he was no longer holding his hand out for his yen. He was stiff but still frowning sternly. But he didn't want to make any motions—who knew if he'd accidentally do something that might encourage the little shit. The situation was already very, very dangerous enough as it was; Miyagi didn't need some underage kid to encourage him to preform gay moves.

There was no fucking way in hell Miyagi was going to stick his hand down the backside of another male's shorts. Not even for his 5,000 yen.

So instead, he left himself to stand there and watch the grey-eyed blond scowl and shrug his boney shoulders.

"I see. So you're letting me take the money."

Miyagi didn't say anything.

"Alright." He boy placed a hand on Miyagi's shoulder as though they were friends. And no, they weren't fucking friends. Miyagi would rather drink from a toilet. They stared at one another's eyes as the kid said, "Bye, mister." The expression was stoic but Miyagi could hear the accomplished smirk underneath his tone.

And just like that, the kid turned around and began to walk away. With Miyagi's money. Well, apparently it wasn't his money anymore, but it was supposed to be.

So yeah, Miyagi couldn't help but train his eyes over the kid's ass as the brat retreated, not because he liked the kid's ass, hell no, but he knew that his dough was underneath the fabric. And it majorly sucked that he pretty much let that kid have his way and take the cash.

Actually, no—if the kid had his way, Miyagi would've had to pretty much grope the under-aged piece of ass. He pretty much just paid to be able to keep his pride just now, or something like that.

He kept glaring and staring at the blond's back until the boy finally entered some shady little fast food shop. And with a repressed sneer, he elder reminded himself that he still needed a smoke. Even more so now that originally.

Fucking weird people.

* * *

It had been three years since Miyagi stepped foot in this damn area. Three whole years, and truthfully, the man never even really wanted to return in the first place. But of course, no one got what they wanted and all that wise stuff. One of life's little rules that the occupants on the earth had to accept and deal with.

But really, Miyagi had no choice but to come back—he was transferred to another institution to work at, which was close by here. An amazing, elite, well-respected university was located basically in the heart of an otherwise filth-ridden mega dump of a city. Oh, ironic.

The man had already gotten himself quite a nice apartment in the not-so shitty side of town. It was pretty large for one person but also cosy at the same time. Pricey, but the raise that came with his transfer made up for that.

So far, Miyagi had been living here for about a week and had pretty much settled in. Kind of. Truth be told, the man basically caged himself up in his apartment and dutifully busied himself in unpacking, organizing, straightening out, and other miscellaneous things to procrastinate. He didn't want to come out and wander the streets of druggies and hookers and other pieces of living failures. Miyagi's apartment was up and running but he was direly avoiding to face the streets and getting accustomed to the various forms of ridiculous lifestyles inhabiting there. If he even _could _get accustomed to it.

Though right now, the man had virtually nothing to do. Work didn't start for another week or so and he could do more preparation for it, but at the same time, he didn't like being overly prepared. Plus he had a nagging feeling in the back of his brain that was scolding him to hurry up and go outside, get used to the ruggedness, and suck it up. And Miyagi also didn't like procrastination much either, even though this didn't have much to do with his occupation.

And as he spent a good portion of his time trying to think of something to do to not go outside, he hadn't realized how many cigarettes he had been puffin' on. He ran out. A groan ripped from his throat as he came to terms with this.

Because now he needed to buy more, which, of course, meant he had to go out to a shop.

He ended up walking over to a convenience store and bought five packages.

And if he had to take a wild guess, he'd say it'd last him one day. Tops.

After getting a hold if his cancer providers, he exited the store and wandered down a narrow alleyway between two stores, which lead him to a seemingly deserted yet dirty little area behind the shops. It was small, dark, dingy, and had a couple if dumpers just sittin' there in all its filthy glory, but it was away from the freaks and a spot to indulge in cancerous sticks.

Or so he so ignorantly thought before he heard a throaty noise to his left and saw he wasn't alone.

Because up against a wall, were two men with their pants partly down their legs. Banging it up for all they were worth.

The smaller guy was facing the wall, his forearms pressed high on it, his back curving delicately as his ass was pounded relentlessly, legs parted ever so. The other guy was bigger, definitely older, and was grunting madly as he held onto the small hips in front of him as he thrust frantically, probably greedily.

The blond in front was less throaty and breathy, clenching his eyes shut breath occasionally hitching. It was actually hard to tell if the guy was even enjoying what was going on to his backside; he could've been getting raped for all Miyagi knew.

But he freakiest thing of all wasn't entirely the raw display that was going on right before his very eyes. No, it was the fact that Miyagi wasn't even doing anything... but staring. Mostly at the smaller man, although, actually looking at his face, he couldn't have been a man just yet. He was probably in his odd years of being something between a boy and a man. Maybe nineteen or twenty.

And whoa. While he stupidly just stood there and gaped like a homosexual that he _wasn't_, the younger guy against the wall must've had a sixth sense or something crazy like that, because now the kid was looking back at Miyagi.

And the professor could've sworn that there was a tinge of surprise in those grey eyes of his, but it only lasted a split second. It was probably just his imagination actually, since it was difficult to spot much of anything behind those glassy, half-lid eyes, but lust. Hungry, burning, sex-starved lust. The blond's pink lips parted with a heavy breath, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

Okay, so this probably wasn't rape. And thank God for that, because if it had been, Miyagi would've been nearly as guilty as the offender for not doing anything to stop it. Not even having the decency to even have the thought cross his mind.

And even now that one of the participants noticed his unwelcomed visit, the man still wasn't budging. Perhaps it was some sort of shock that was paralysing his body. Really, it wasn't everyday he'd find two males screwing in such a dirty setting.

Miyagi and the blond's eyes remained drilling into the other's while the other guy stayed completely oblivious to Miyagi's presence, blissfully focusing solely on what euphoric sensations the younger man's ass was sending him.

As seconds passed, the professor began to notice the blond starting to pant a bit, beginning to sensually move his body in rhythm with the other male's movements. His vision bore solely on Miyagi as he moaned so silently it was almost non-existent. But as more seconds went by, the sweet sounds of pleasure continued and got slightly louder as well.

Miyagi's eyes enlarged as he saw one of the kid's thin arms part from the wall and down the his privates—he began playing with it. More pleasure was being sent through the teen's body, and he didn't even make an attempt hiding it.

"Ah, fuck, that's good. Harder," he gasped, giving himself a fluid pump, as his sweaty body jolted. "Mmm, ah, fuck yes..."

During the entire duration thus far, the heated boy was looking at Miyagi, only stopping to blink, but even that was a bare minimum. And Miyagi didn't know what kept him to stay there for so long.

But the older man, older than Miyagi himself, finally had released into the young body with a pathetically desperate groan and squeeze of the kid's hips. Soon after, the body also brought his own vocal climax along, but much more sweet-sounding than the other guy.

Not that Miyagi stayed long enough to witness the whole orgasm. He darted back out the way he came from and when he reached the sidewalks again, he slowed to a fast-paced walk all the way back to his apartment.

He was hard.

* * *

It was Miyagi's day off work and he thought he'd take a walk, which resulted in him stopping by a park and leaning against a tree to suck on a cigarette.

Life was good so far, or at least as good as he could bring it to be in this neighbourhood, which he still wasn't warming up to. He had began working at the institution a week ago, meaning he'd been living here for just over two weeks thus far. Overall, it was a pretty decent life; he loved his job and apartment, which he supposed made up for everything else that was lacking. Namely the people out on the streets.

He was still determined to get used to it. It was probably possible.

Shutting his eyes and exhaling a thick cloud of smoke into the calm atmosphere, Miyagi gaped when his cigarette was suddenly plucked from his fingers. He hadn't even heard anybody approaching him, and when he glanced beside him, he was alarmed to see a young blond boy taking a nonchalant drag from his drug.

Oh god fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Shit.

Miyagi immediately recognized the boy as the one he saw fucking in the back alley behind the stores about a week ago. Damn it all. It was the kid who'd somehow _aroused _the professor. And he had to take a cold shower like some teenage boy who still had to deal with raging hormones.

Miyagi didn't say anything just yet—he simply gawked as his thoughts processed. When the cigarette-stealing boy noted the older man staring, he turned to face the guy and blew a trail of smoke and chemicals into his face.

Alright, that was certainly uncalled for, even though the raven-haired man didn't flinch or react other than frowning. Today's youth really hadn't a damn clue about respect. Or maybe that was just another one of this city's dashing quirks.

"Hey," the boy greeted. "Mind sharing the cigarette? I'm a bit short on them."

In response, Miyagi emitted an agitated sigh and fished his pocket to light up another one. "Keep it."

"Alright."

Soon Miyagi was starting his new death stick and the two of them smoked in silence. Awkward silence, but silence no less. Or at least, Miyagi felt slightly uncomfortable smoking alone with this unknown gay kid. The blond displayed no signs of discomfort visible on his face whenever Miyagi briefly glanced over at him.

It continued on for a bit, until the blond finished his cig and crushed it under his worn, dirty shoes. Sandals. They were sandals.

"I thought you were straight," the kid said in his smooth voice.

Miyagi coughed a hazy mess of fumes and again gawked at the blond, who simply looked back at him full on. The man blinked and crushed his own half-used cig on the ground. He asked in a calm demeanour, "What?"

"But you stayed and watched," the boy continued, ignoring Miyagi's question. He licked his lips. "Did you enjoy the show?"

The man blanked at first then immediately wanted to deny it, but when he thought back to the state his dick was in after witnessing the activity, or _show,_as the kid put it, words got tied up in Miyagi's mouth and he responded with nothing.

The blond's lips pressed together in contemplation. Then he said, "I didn't expect to see you again."

Miyagi lazily turned his head to gaze out at the bunch of trees in front of him, not particularly interested in conversing with this person.

"Last time, I didn't see you at all afterwards. But now I'm glad to have caught you here."

Honesty, Miyagi wasn't sure what the blond was talking about. "Kid, don't you have something to do?"

"Yes," the boy replied instantly. "I could be out at the clubs right now, fucking some random, drunk old guy and cleaning out his wallet. Either by him remembering to pay me or stealing it with extra if he doesn't."

God, a prostitute. A male one no less.

"Alright, so why don't you go do that."

"Sure. Later."

Miyagi glared at the boy, who was still sporting no visible emotions in his face.

The grey eyes stared him back as he asked, "What's your name?"

The man hesitated, but decided a prostitute couldn't do much with his name. "Miyagi."

"I'm Shinobu."

"Charmed." Miyagi shut his eyes in an attempt to relax, hands shoved into the pockets of his sweater.

"Hard day?" the prostitute kid, or Shinobu, if that was even his real name, asked as if it were any if his business.

"Busy last couple weeks," Miyagi grumbled in response.

The boy hmm'd and Miyagi sensed those large grey eyes still trained on him. "I can help you relax," Shinobu suggested, after breathing out a long trail of smoke.

Heh. Yeah right.

"Would you like to—"

"I don't think so," the professor interrupted. "I don't deal with prostitutes. Especially male ones."

After stomping out his cigarette on the ground, Shinobu stepped in front of the older man. Miyagi opened his dark eyes narrowly as the smaller individual dragged his fingertips over the fabric of his sleeve, just barely applying enough pressure to feel it. "You say that as if you were straight." There was a hint of amusement in his words but blatant indifference written on his attractive face.

"Hate to break it to you," Miyagi muttered, "but I _am _straight. Straighter than anyone I've ever met." He himself wasn't even certain how true those words were, but he wanted to believe them and said them regardless.

Again, Shinobu licked his pink lips, irritatingly slowly. And Miyagi couldn't look anywhere but those lips and that tongue. "The way you stared at me... while you watched of me fucking... said otherwise."

Finally, the older man swiped the blond's small hand away from his arm. He glowered at the frustrating young man and said, "Brat, I think you'd better go do something else elsewhere. I'm in no mood to talk to anybody."

"You in the mood to fuck?"

Miyagi's eyes visibly widened at the suggestion, though he didn't know why since he should've seen it coming. He responded with a firm, in-his-face "_No_."

Of course, not that the little street rat paid any mind to that. A hand rested over Miyagi's chest gently. "I can make you feel good. I can put you at ease, make you forget anything that may be troubling you."

"The person who's troubling me wants to make me forget my troubles? How ironic," he muttered darkly.

But Shinobu was clearly unfazed ad his pressed his small, skinny body right up against the older professor's. "I'll let you do anything you want with me." His eyes were intense, burning narrowly into the others. "I'll let you fuck me, practice all your little kinks on my body. Toys, S&M, role play, dry, publicly... or if you just want a simple round of face-fucking, I'm all for that too. I've done it all before."

Miyagi's eyes were literally bugged as this dirty kid pressed his small hips up against his own. His breath was held and his shoulders were rock tense, staring down at Shinobu.

"I want you," Shinobu admitted bluntly, rubbing Miyagi's chest sensually with his gentle hands. "I want to please you, to satisfy you. You may think you're straight, but I don't give a shit. A fuck's a fuck... remember that."

The professor swallowed his spit and licked his dry lips. Shinobu watched attentively, breathing deep but steadily for a moment, soon after reaching up and dragging a thumb over Miyagi's chapped lip. Fuck this kid.

Shinobu didn't shut up. "It doesn't matter who it is you're fucking, as long as it'll lead to orgasm." A breathy exhale. "I bet you're amazing—you'll probably drive me crazy, have me wrapped all around you...taking you in, panting your name."

The professor's heart froze when the heated blond clutched onto him tighter, leaning up to his ear. Miyagi could feel the venomous breath touch his neck, almost making the man shiver.

"Ah... _ahh_... _**Miyagi**_...!"

The professor roughly shoved Shinobu off of him to regain his demeanour and, curse all Gods, his breaths came out noticeably shaky and hardly composed. His fierce glare was aimed at the boy in front of him, but it was mostly a self-loathing grimace for allowing his body to act up yet a second time when encountering this brat.

Shinobu watched him, always the observant one, and slicked his lips with his tongue. "I won't charge you anything. I want you," he repeated bluntly. "I'll let you do anything to me... just for you, Miyagi."

Miyagi began to straighten out his clothes in order to occupy his hands with something. He let out a breath that he'd been holding, glaring anywhere that this Shinobu kid wasn't. "I'm not interested in whatever you have to offer me," he said a bit quieter than he'd intended it.

Shinobu was silent, whatever going through his mind a mystery, and shrugged thin shoulders. "If that's what you think, I'll be patient," he said. "You can always come find me though... I'll be around. Unless I'm fucking at a motel or at someone's place."

Miyagi said nothing, waiting patiently for the blond to leave so he could enjoy another cigarette alone, in solitude and peace.

The boy sighed and turned to glance elsewhere, running a hand through his hair. "Winter's coming soon..." he mumbled more to himself than anything else. Miyagi couldn't help but notice the look of distaste that crossed Shinobu's youthful face.

Unable to hold back his twitching fingers any longer, Miyagi shoved his hand into his pants pocket and grabbed a package of smokes. Before he plucked one out, another hand beat him to it and swiped a cig for himself.

Shinobu smugly placed it between his lips and mumbled around it, "Can I have another light, Miyagi?"

Sending an annoyed dirty look, Miyagi responded, "Would you go on your way?"

"Sure," Shinobu said, "unless you want me to stay."

"Tch." The professor swiftly lit the boy's smoke and motioned for the little nuisance to piss off.

The blond offered a small parting wave. "Later," he said as he finally walked away from the older man.

Miyagi's eyes never left the teen's back until he was completely out of sight. And when he noticed that, he cursed into the air and roughly dug the carton for a cigarette for himself.

More profanity escaped his lips—Shinobu took the last smoke.

* * *

The day went on and the professor spent it leisurely, walking around and smoking (after going home to retrieve a new package), to further familiarize himself with the area. But as the skies grew darker, areas more deserted, Miyagi then began to walk in the direction of a bar. He drank enough to be kind of tipsy and pretty hazy, but not enough to be completely shit-faced, in order to be able to walk back to his apartment without hailing a cab.

He was walking through the streets, where many shops were stationed, smoke dangling contentedly between his lips, hand reaching out to use a wall or pole for support when needed. Miyagi was staring straight ahead, vision kind of fuzzy, when he saw two bodies stumble into view from a side alleyway between two stores, mouths fervently interlocked, tongues twisting in wet laps.

The professor went stiff, eyes enlarging, and a overwhelming urge to run decked him. Even in his drunk stupor, he was able to tell who one of the people was. He hadn't been anticipating to see the blond teenager again, who had an uncharacteristic smirk pulling at his lips as he parted away from the other man. His eyes were glazed fucking over and darker, even redder than Miyagi's. It was dark, being nearly midnight, but there were plenty of streetlights around to have a clear view of the kid.

He hadn't even realized that he'd frozen in his steps and was, once again, staring at Shinobu. The boy's hands were placed on the other guy's chest, like a maiden in a terrible romance movie, only looking awfully unfocused and unguarded, pretty vulnerable. He closed his eyes and leaned up to give the man's lips a slow lick, before the man guffawed, slapped Shinobu's ass, and left the boy in whatever state he was currently in.

This was the last thing the professor needed. He was a little drunk, and did not want the kid to use that state to his advantage. He had already been harassed by the blond earlier that day and the man had hoped that would have been the end of their little unwanted encounters.

But of course not. Karma, fate, or whatever wicked, fucked up curse was working against the man, forcing him to come across this strange individual once again.

Miyagi just hoped that maybe Shinobu would choose to spare him any shit. He looked pretty out of it himself actually, seeing his eyes droop in the way they did. Maybe the boy wounldn't notice the older man's presence and walk right on past on his merry way...

But shit, Shinobu turned his pretty blond head and spotted the older professor. Of course.

Something out there was fucking around with the Miyagi—he just knew it.

His body tensed harder than unlubricated anal sex, stuck in his immobile stare, waiting for the kid to come up to him and do something.

Shinobu regarded Miyagi in a way that made the professor feel uneasy. It was like the boy was looking at him, but not entirely _seeing_him. And with those metal eyes of his, the man wasn't sure if he should be feeling a bit... concerned about the blond.

Heh. Concerned over a gay prostitute. Right now, Miyagi should have been more concerned about himself.

Soon, Shinobu's body turned toward the alleyway he'd just come out of with the other man who'd left (Miyagi didn't want to imagine what they'd been doing). But the grey, red-rimmed eyes never left Miyagi as he went back, disappearing in the unlit darkness, out of the man's field of vision.

And Miyagi followed.

He didn't know what had even possessed him to do so—didn't think _why_, he just stepped forward and _did_. It was probably the booze's doing, but it was mind-fucking, at least to Miyagi. Following a male prostitute into some hidden-away alley, the same weird brat who he'd seen being fucked and had earlier this very day tried to seduce him... it made no sense. If Miyagi wasn't gay, and wasn't horny out of his mind, then he must have been insane.

But Miyagi didn't like the thought of being _insane_. He was probably just more intoxicated than he'd originally thought. So, as he walked through the alley behind the blond, Miyagi settled that he was simply checking to see if the boy was alright. He was worried about his fellow citizens. Yeah, he'd go with that.

Shinobu stopped walking once they'd reached the back and went off to the side a bit. Miyagi glanced around, and after taking in the foul odour of garbage and other shit, he knew that this place was awfully familiar, even though it was much too dark to really see a whole lot. But it was definitely the same alley where he'd witnessed Shinobu getting fucked. Oh dear God, Miyagi'd been lured into Shinobu's... place, or whatever this was.

He hadn't even realized Shinobu had turned and was facing him until he felt the boy claw at his upper arms.

"Why're you here?"

His eyes had somewhat adjusted to the dark which allowed him to see the teen's frame and a bit of his face.

Shinobu continued to speak, "I didn't ask you to come."

The kid's breath was also felt against Miyagi's neck. It felt warm.

"But you followed me anyway. Did you want to ask me something?"

And surprisingly, over the gunky smells wafting all around them, the professor was even able to smell the boy. He had a strong smell. Very distinct. And Miyagi was able to recognize what it was.

"Or maybe you just want to thrust your dick into me that badly."

Shinobu reeked of pot.

An uncharacteristic giggle from the normally stoic boy confirmed the scent. Not that Miyagi really needed any additional convincing—with the smell of weed this strong, Miyagi could only imagine him being higher the fucking moon above them. And all the stars twinkling around it.

"Hey..." Miyagi said with a minor slur, placing a hand on Shinobu's shoulder. Fuck, this guy was thin."Are... are you alrigh'?" Hell, he didn't know what to do around druggies.

And then he realized that, not only was he dealing with a fucking whore, but a nasty drug user as well. Perhaps he also liked to drink alcohol like a whale or carried more STDs than Miyagi could even name.

None of it would even surprise the professor. He knew about the sort of crazy, strange, fucked up lives people lived when they were making dumb decisions to mess themselves up.

And looking down at the stoned teenager who was grinning a grin that didn't suit his face at all, Miyagi wanted to shove him off into the pile of hard-looking garbage bags behind the boy and leave him to rot. Then all the rats and vultures of Japan would come and rip apart his flesh and organs. And Miyagi wouldn't care. No one would.

Because Shinobu was at the scummiest level of the human spectrum, the impetus of shame and all breathing insignificance.

Groaning, Miyagi swayed a little, but set himself upright again with his hand being placed on Shinobu's shoulder.

"Miyagi," Shinobu breathed, clear but silently, leaning his head against Miyagi's chest as if it were the most natural thing for him. The professor tensed significantly, holding in a breath and retrieved his hand again to ensure both arms were at his sides, despite the reflex that wanted to wrap his arms around the smaller form.

Human nature? It could have just been habit. He'd always hold a woman who'd cling to him, whether or not he held feelings for them. But he didn't want to hold this boy. He was a boy.

Shinobu sighed contentedly through his nose and he looked in bliss hugging Miyagi like that.

"You know..." Shinobu nuzzled him and the older man forced himself to look away from the blond head. "I'm hungry, Miyagi. Really hungry."

The human side of Miyagi wanted to take the kid out to the nearest fast food joint and buy him something fulfilling on the menu, while the cynical, drunken jackass inside the man just felt like telling the blond that it was just too fucking bad.

But he didn't do either of the things. Just swallowed some spit that tasted like dull sake when he felt something press against his neck. He didn't want to think about Shinobu—this little street rat—putting those chaste lips over his skin.

Then Shinobu slowly peeled from the stiff man and pointed his droopy, red eyes at him. "Do you have food?"

He swallowed thickly, staring straight out in front of him with eyes hard, set like stone. "No," he responded dryly.

He heard a pathetic whimper and swallowed again. Shinobu didn't say anything for a moment, until Miyagi heard a small, but almost whiny voice from the boy. "I'm hungry."

He almost rolled his eyes and told the kid that he'd already informed Miyagi of his pot-induced hunger mere seconds ago.

The kid held the man tighter with a strong grip Miyagi hadn't thought stoned people were capable of mustering. But at least it kept the professor standing straight. And then, to the professor's horror the brat emitted another whimper that sounded suspiciously close to a moan, and the boy's body fucking _writhed _right up against his own, body parts grounding at all the wrong places.

The man's mouth twitched and his heart pounded alongside the rush of adrenaline surfacing at the crashing realization of where this might have potentially been heading.

"Mm..." Shinobu sighed, obviously much more relaxed at the situation than the other man. The pot probably helped. Then the boy moaned out, "Fill me up, Miyagi..."

The professor shamefully picked up on the double meaning of those words instantly, unfortunately having vivid visuals pop up in his mind of a particular panting, sweat-glossed blond kid with grey eyes sprawled out underneath the older man on some dirty motel mattress, groaning whoreish come-ons like 'Give it to me hard,' or 'Come on, Miyagi, I want to feel you explode in my ass.'

And that wasn't good.

"I doon't... have food," Miyagi muttered, silently cursing himself for sounding so damn uncertain. And then he noticed how uneven his breathing had become; this definitely wasn't good.

His eyes widened when the pressure of the other body suddenly left, and he looked down to find that the blond had collapsed on his knees, now eyes the professor's crotch. There was a tent—a blatant _tent _sporting from underneath the man's pants.

Shinobu licked his lips, not taking his eyes off Miyagi's unwanted arousal. "Even if I can't have real food..." Two hands gripped on either side of the raven's hips. "...I can always settle for swallowing this alternative instead..."

Shinobu's hands remained seated at Miyagi's sides, leaving the boy to lean his head forward and skillfully undo the single button with his mouth. Then the zippered smoothly got pulled undone between the boy's teeth, and Miyagi did stared trans-fixedly at the little whore beginning his magic, having to support himself by grabbing a filthy wall that was luckily right behind him.

Without a doubt, Miyagi _did _need release at the moment. He knew he could always go home or somewhere private and take care if it himself, but his dick was an impatient one, deeming it useless to pass up a blow job for his right hand.

Clearly, Miyagi was thinking with the wrong head as he did nothing to stop the boy from pulling his pants and boxers down to his thighs.

Shinobu breathed heavily through his mouth with Miyagi's member out to salute and welcome him. "Mmm..."

The man didn't even know how he'd gotten so erect to begin with. If this had been a girl, then it wouldn't be much of a shock to get this reaction, but he'd never thought he'd ever get all hot down there for a _guy_. And the man wasn't a homophobe either—this was just an insult to his own particular heterosexuality. Plus, a kid... Miyagi almost shuddered.

He _did _shutter however when sudden warmth overtook his hardness and an expert tongue began to slick him up, lap at him and suck with an overwhelmingly thorough rhythm and pace.

Miyagi hissed and ground his teeth together, legs getting shakier and he had to press his entire back to hold himself up. Narrowed, hazy violet eyes gazed down at the blond head bobbing steadily on his erection.

The stirring and intense pleasure told Miyagi that he wasn't going to last long. He felt himself throbbing already in the boy's mouth—he'd never had an orgasm rush this quickly from receiving head since his early twenties.

But then again, he'd never had anybody being able to suck cock so fucking _amazingly _before. It must have came with experience; Miyagi was positive this brat had plenty. Or maybe the boy was always like this—a natural at taking it in the mouth. Taking it in the fucking _throat—_God dammit, if Shinobu kept on deep-throating him like this...

The stoned teen must have known the older man was rapidly nearing his climax, seeing as he slowly slipped Miyagi's hardness out of his mouth—fucking tease—and instead wrapped his hand around it. He then proceeded to pump rather vigorously, unmercifully, like he wanted to_ force _an orgasm out of Miyagi. And all the while Miyagi was struggling with only partial success to keep his aroused, slurred grunts to himself, the blond having his head tilted upwards to look at Miyagi.

Their eyes connected and never left one another, not when Shinobu thumbed his slit, and not when Miyagi's lips parted and groaned, cum spasming out of his dick, or when Shinobu lucidly milked his climax out.

Semen missed Shinobu for the most part, shooting out beside his head, but Miyagi did note some of his substance hit the boy's shoulder, his neck, and a bit in his hair. But Shinobu didn't seem to have cared. The kid couldn't have been any more of a slut if he tried.

Miyagi was panting—he hadn't came so hard in a while. He was glaring down at the kid, who stoically gazed back up, still clearly under effects of weed as his eyes still had that dopey look to them.

The brat had stated he was hungry, that he'd take the... _alternative_, as the little shit had put it, since Miyagi didn't have any food on him.

Shinobu licked his lips and pushed himself close to Miyagi to the point where their bodies were touching, pressed against each other.

...But Shinobu quite deliberately pulled his member out of his mouth right when it was obvious Miyagi was going to shoot at any moment.

He felt the blond take his hands into his own smaller ones.

...It was like initially the whole purpose of giving Miyagi head was to intake something... even if that something was as sleazy as semen... yet Shinobu didn't swallow anything. He just stared at Miyagi was that unreadable look.

"Mm." Shinobu slowly guided Miyagi's hands to the front of their pants. Then the professor's eyes enlarged when his hands came in contact with Shinobu's unclothed, stone erection. The teen wrapped one of the man's hand around the length, the other a bit lower to his testicles.

Miyagi didn't know what the brat's fucking game was.

Almost as soon as he felt the kid's arousal, he pulled from it and out of his hands' grasp. Miyagi ground his teeth and punched the kid square in the right side of his face.

Shinobu yelped and his unguarded little body fell back and hit some lumpy garbage bags.

The older man looked away, putting his clothing back to cover himself. He staggered towards the exit, ignoring the almost nonexistent whimper from the direction of the thrash bags, casually as though he was simply walking out of a shopping market and was on his way home to catch whatever was on TV.

He knew he wasn't the sort to settle any disputes or conflicts in violence. In actuality, what he'd just done to Shinobu surprised himself. The rugged, freak-infested city, and the alcohol he could still taste at the back of his throat, must have been having more of an impact on the man than he'd thought.

For the entire journey back home, Miyagi forced himself to push back thoughts of the blond out of his head. He didn't want to think about him. He didn't want to think about anything. He especially didn't want to envision a blond head pleasuring very private areas of the man. Moreover, the boy's slightly breathless face staring back up at him, bits of Miyagi's DNA in his hair and neck.

So when he got home, he downed whatever cans of beer he had stocked in the fridge and went straight to bed, hoping that the blond wouldn't be there to torture him in his dreams as well.

* * *

Fall had swept by silently and winter had begun. Tonight was supposed to the the first sign of snow, unfortunately in the form of a storm. Not _too_big of a storm, but it was expected to bring several inches.

Which was why Miyagi went to the supermarket for some last-minute shopping while it was still clear of snow. He'd procrastinated in buying some winter wear and more blankets due to a stack of essays that needed to be graded. Plus while he had moved to this place, he'd given away some stuff he didn't want to carry, and apparently his warmer blankets had been part of it.

In his basket was some sweaters and other awesome and warm stuff, but he still needed to grab a blanket or two before he could leave.

So he strolled into the relatively empty isle, and looked at a bunch sitting near some blond person who was also there.

They both stood, allowing their eyes to browse over the merchandise in front of them; the blond individual's eyes wandered a bit more towards Miyagi's direction, and before the professor knew it, they each slowly took notice of one another's presence and their eyes connected.

It was shocked violet eyes gawking at indifferent grey ones.

"Hey," Shinobu said.

"Uh," Miyagi uttered, lacking sophistication. "I—er,um—"

The teen watched silently but soon shrugged and returned his attention to the shelves again. Swallowing awkwardly, Miyagi did the same, though he wasn't contemplating the blankets as much as the boy next the him was.

He hadn't seen Shinobu since the night he'd punched the poor guy., and been given that incredible blow job. Throughout the few months that passed, Miyagi was working his mind to pretend the strange kid never even existed. Success was little, but that wasn't the point. He hadn't been expecting to see Shinobu ever again, considering how they hadn't crossed paths even once since their last encounter.

But to bump into one another in a supermarket... Miyagi wasn't aware trashy kids who led a life like Shinobu's even entered places like this. Normal places, that is—places that normal people went to.

Although, as the man silently side-glanced at the blond now, he didn't even appear like a prostitute. Or at least, Shinobu's clothing was entirely different—light, baggy jeans and a snug-looking black sweater. His feet were wearing actual shoes this time, not dirty sandals that looked like they were going to fall apart at the next rough fuck.

Maybe the kid _did _have some money that could buy him new clothes if he wanted it. Perhaps the usual torn, overly large clothing and sometimes revealing garments were just for show to lure people willing to buy his body.

Eh, whatever. Miyagi didn't give a damn anyway. Shinobu was probably pissed that he had punched him previously. The professor just needed to swiftly grab a suiting blanket and get out of there, hopefully never seeing Shinobu ever again.

"So?" Shinobu yawned. "You got some broad up at your place? Need more covers if you want her to spend the night. After you have sex with her, of course."

Nope, no broad. "I don't see how that's any of your business."

"Ah. A guy." Shinobu nodded. "Understandable. Having a member of the same sex choking himself over your cock is a real turn on, isn't it."

It wasn't even a question, to Miyagi's irritation. But still, no guy at his place either. Miyagi hadn't any desire to hook up with anyone in a while.

"What kind of blanket's good?" the blond wondered aloud.

"What's up with you?" Miyagi asked. "Your clothes now are completely different than what I usually see you in." Alright, so much for not caring. Miyagi was just curious. Curious about the only guy who'd ever sucked his dick before.

Shinobu glanced at the elder nonchalantly then back to the blankets. "Stole these clothes."

Miyagi snorted. He should have figured.

The blond continued, "Had sex with some kid. He couldn't have been any older than me—he was probably eighteen or something. Just some dumbass curious what it was like to fuck another guy."

Geez, was fucking all this kid ever did?

"So I showed him. Even had him _screaming_ near the end—see if he ever comes to a _girl _to screw ever again after I dealt with him and—"

"Spare me those details," Miyagi sharply interrupted. He got irritated every single time he ever saw this brat.

"He was a jackass though. I fucked him first and asked him to pay me once we were done. But he attempted to be a smart shit and say he must've left his money at home or something like that. It was bull. Once he fell asleep, I found his wallet in his pants and found more than enough yen to pay me with. I put on his clothes and took everything in his wallet. Then left." Shinobu lifted his hand to feel over some of the fabric on a shelf. "He's probably still sleeping right now in that motel room, completely not knowing."

Miyagi said nothing and the blond continued to relish the softness from the cotton material. Moments passed, neither of them saying or doing anything, until Shinobu spoke up.

"I'm using his money to buy myself a blanket," he explained. "I hate winter. Especially when it snows. If I can't have anybody pick me up and let me stay the night... it's really cold out."

The professor eyed the boy hug himself, rubbing his upper arms as though remembering previous winters.

"I'm not always able to find myself someone willing to put me up. People like to stay indoors when it's snowing. And if it's too late at night, most places close up. Bars and clubs stay open... but they always want to ID me before I even step in, which is pretty stupid."

Shinobu was speaking softly, in barely more than a whisper. The professor was merely watching him from the very corner of his eyes, trying not to appear very interested, but he still had to ask, "You don't have a home?"

He slowly responded, "No."

"How old are you?"

"Nineteen."

Miyagi pursed his lips as he considered the situation of the boy. Shinobu really did have it shitty—Miyagi couldn't deny that. And as much as the man hated the thought, he really did feel a bit sympathetic for the brat. He didn't know the teen's entire story—who knew; Shinobu might have deserved this sort of lifestyle—but still, Miyagi was human and humans typicaly held sympathy when hearing of another one's misfortune.

The teenager sighed suddenly, grabbing a dark grey blanket that appeared to be more durable than most on these shelves. "If I don't find anyone to take me home or to a motel to fuck me tonight, I wanted to purchase something that'll give me even a bit of warmth. Otherwise it would be complete and utter freezing hell out there."

Miyagi finally turned his head to the boy and blinked when Shinobu turned away from him.

"I'll see you later, Miyagi. Thanks for listening," he mumbled, holding the blanket underneath one arm.

"Uh, hold on," the man spoke before he'd even realized, just as Shinobu was about to trek off.

The blond stopped at looked at him over a shoulder, quirking one blond eyebrow. "What is it? I want to get out soon before it starts snowing," he muttered.

Miyagi clamped his eyes shut, weaving his fingers through his hair roughly. God, this was so fucking odd. "Look, brat, if you really need it, I'll let you stay at my place tonight."

Grey eyes blinked and he fully faced Miyagi, clearly shocked.

"I mean, just for sleeping," he quickly clarified. "None of that dirty stuff you normally do with your... customers. Just so I know you'll have a roof over your head during the snow storm tonight. If it even starts to snow at all."

Shinobu frowned, nose slightly scrunching in sort of a cute way. You know, if he had been a girl minus the prostitution, he would have been kind of cute. But then the blond had to ask, "Only _sleeping_?" as though the very thought was some sort of unheard-of prospect only nutcases partook in. Sleeping—how bizarre, right?

"Yes, sleeping," the man repeated. "Put on pyjamas, get under the sheets and blankets, shut your eyes, and drift into undisturbed slumber and dreams," he elaborated. "Only I'll be the one in the bed—you'll take the futon I have in my closet somewhere."

But the kid only continued to stare, one brow raised, as though Miyagi had another head growing out of his neck. Shinobu didn't get it.

"Look," Miyagi said a bit gruffer than intended. He was getting agitated increasingly as the seconds of indecision went on. "You taking my offer or not? 'Cause you can very well say no and I won't mind knowing that I've already done my good deed of inviting you over."

"I'll come with you." God, did Miyagi have to have dirty thoughts with every unintended sexual thing that come from this boy's mouth? "It's just that... you can get much more than simply sleep. And as I told you before, I won't charge you anything."

"Right." Miyagi grabbed a softer blanket from the isle before glancing at the teenager and putting Shinobu's own selected blanket back onto the shelf.

"I still need that blanket," Shinobu protested stoically.

"I have some you can use. You'd best spend your money on other things." He thought for a moment before adding, "If you're good, you can stay the night at my place whenever you need it. Better than lugging around a big blanket like that wherever you go."

Shinobu perked. "Really?"

Miyagi didn't even know what the hell he was saying. But he felt like he needed to do it—he needed to know the strange brat was alright. "Yeah, you can. On the nights you don't get picked up, I mean. But sleep only. And maybe you can have breakfast or something." The professor shrugged and walked off, the slightly surprised blond kid trailing close behind.

He silently proceeded to pay for all his stuff, Shinobu close behind and equally as quiet. Once all that was done and good, they continued into Miyagi's car and began a deathly silent drive to his apartment.

* * *

They arrived at Miyagi's place. It was tense, but not as much as the professor thought it would have been. In fact, Shinobu looked right at home from the second he stepped inside. With a single comment regarding the cleanliness of the home, the boy went straight to Miyagi's firm sofa and settled, as though he'd done it a million times before.

They still didn't talk after that aside from small passing comments that couldn't lead up to any kind of conversation. While Miyagi went into the kitchen to see if he had anything warm to help heat him up, Shinobu remained at his seat, remote in hand, scanning through the TV channels with mild interest.

Miyagi considered simply fixing some steaming tea, but thoughts directed to the kid in his living room, and he finally settled for some hot chocolate he found. He figured kids liked hot chocolate in the winter, right? Not that he found it a priority to comply to Shinobu's wants, but it was in the man to make anyone's stay at his place a good one.

After fixing two steaming mugs of chocolatey sweetness, Miyagi remembered the can of whipped cream in his fridge and topped both with a generous amount. He even got some cinnamon powder and added an attractive sprinkle over the fluffy whipping cream.

Miyagi swiftly placed a mug in front of the teenager, who still hadn't found a TV show to his liking. The professor plopped down on another couch across from the blond. "Drink," he ordered simply.

Shinobu let his grey eyes drift to the hot beverage but didn't touch it. "What is it?" he asked. Well damn. Miyagi didn't know homeless prostitutes were supposed to question free food. Or drink, in this case.

"It's hot chocolate. Don't burn yourself."

"Oh." Shinobu didn't do much else. He really was a dull kid. Or maybe he just wanted to leave. Well, Miyagi wouldn't lift a finger to stop him if that were the case.

"What's wrong? Don't like chocolate?" the man teased, gently blowing his own beverage.

"Not particularly." Alright, Miyagi wasn't quite anticipated that response.

"You serious? Every kid likes sweet things." Maybe it was official: World's oddest human being—sitting right here in Miyagi's living room.

"Not all of them." Shinobu finally grabbed the steaming mug and blew against the surface. "You always bias like that?"

"Excuse me?"

"Never mind." Shinobu brought the hot chocolate up to his lips and sipped, his eyes bugging less than a second after and bringing the mug away from his red mouth.

Miyagi smirked at the display, asking, "Burn yourself?"

Shinobu responded reluctantly. "Sort of." His hand came up and wiped at his lips, scowling at the drink now settled back on the table.

The professor wanted to chuckle at the unexpected childish front but let nothing more than an amused smirk apparent on his face.

They waited for their cups to cool, each avoiding conversation with the other. Miyagi opted to direct his gaze to his TV instead.

The man began to drink once it wasn't too scorching, and soon, Shinobu also began to sip his own again.

From the corner of his eye, Miyagi sensed the kid looking at him. And indeed, they boy's eyes were staring, _drilling_, into him when Miyagi faced him again.

Shinobu was taking a slow sip, his eyes narrowly boring into Miyagi's, never taking them off, and not even bothering to be discreet about it, until he pulled away and his tongue came out lick away the thin, white line of cream that clung to the top of his lip.

The kid leaned back against the fabric of his seat, appearing all too fucking relaxed, and sipped again, gaze never leaving Miyagi.

The man, incapable of looking elsewhere from the boy, took a gulp from his own beverage, his own tongue instinctively licking away the cream on his own lip.

It was impossible to miss how Shinobu's line of vision followed the sight of Miyagi's tongue, soaking it in. The boy again darted his own pink tongue out and licked at his lips to collect cream that wasn't even there.

Miyagi missed none of the not-so subtle hints that indicated what was probably going through the blond's mind. And the reality of the entire situation crashed into the professor's conscience in an explosion of simple-minded little facts.

Shinobu was at his place. Shinobu was invited there. Miyagi was the one who invited him. Shinobu was a slut. A slut was at his apartment. Shinobu fucked for a living. Shinobu wanted to fuck Miyagi. Shinobu had already given Miyagi a blow job. The blow job was incredible. Miyagi was getting hard. Oh fuck, was Miyagi getting _hard_?!

He was. He wasn't sure if Shinobu noticed since he wasn't looking at the blond anymore, but closed his legs and lowered his mug to his lap regardless. He wanted to ignore the kid, but suddenly the boy stood with his empty mug on the table, and yawned as though everything was just mightily dandy and he hadn't just aroused the professor into an erection.

"I am go to bed soon. Where am I supposed to sleep exactly?"

Miyagi didn't pounce—not exactly—but he did suddenly landed himself on top of the boy on the couch Shinobu was sitting on, pressing the smaller body against it, mouth sucking the life out of the boy's.

He didn't even know when he had gotten up and nearly attacked the other boy, but Shinobu was lying down and Miyagi was hovering above. The kissing was sloppy and open-mouthed, allowing their tongues to fuck, and both men were heatedly trying to devour the other. Miyagi's hands were feeling up the small body, tugging at the blond's clothing, while Shinobu had his hands clawing in the raven hair, arms tight around his neck.

It wasn't enough. Miyagi abruptly pulled away, ignoring a reluctant whimper from Shinobu, and roughly pulled at the boy's hoodie, finally ripping it off the blond.

The black shirt underneath was tight, even for Shinobu's skinny torso, and seemed like it would be a pain in the ass to take off, so Miyagi swiftly yanked it all the way up to gather at Shinobu's armpits. Immediately, his mouth latched onto the creamy skin and sucked madly, some areas bruised, some areas with hickeys. Shinobu moaned when Miyagi nibbled a pert nibble, fingering the other nub. His free hand was greedily rubbing all around the boy's inner thigh, sometimes nudging the hardness in front.

"Ahh, yes, Miyagi, fuck." Shinobu was gasping out his words and that was all that the lust-driven man needed to go further.

Without so much as a warning, Miyagi ceased in his mindless actions and stood up, yanking Shinobu's arm—not too roughly, but enough to get the boy to sit up.

The flustered teenager looked at the man's eyes—desperate, lusting eyes—and knew what the man wanted without being told. He also got up and took his shirt off while calmly walking to the professor's bedroom.

Miyagi followed and was again all other the willing blond the moment they stepped in, pressing the slender body flat against the wall, lips and teeth grazing onto the smooth, creamy skin. He sucked at Shinobu's throat, neck, collarbones, fully intent on leaving his own markings to add onto the preexisting hickeys from previous fucks.

Shinobu was groaning at every wet flick of the tongue, parting his legs as he ran his hands underneath Miyagi's shirt. He felt the man's body, brushing his thumbs against the nipples every so often, relishing the harder bites produced by Miyagi every time, before his hands glided lower, expertly opening his trousers.

Once Miyagi felt confident fingers brush gently against his swelling hardness, a growl ripped from his throat as he unlatched himself from Shinobu's spit-coated neck and chest. He grabbed the boy and brought him over to the bed. Watching the blond comfortably settle on his back near the headboard, legs spread, Miyagi quickly took his shirt off and climbed over the boy in between those inviting legs.

He had never been so desperate to fuck anyone in his life. And the professor was all too eager to tear the rest of the clothing off this skinny, horny, young, delicious, slutty, beautiful kid and ease himself between his parted legs after pulling his own trousers and briefs lower.

And so Miyagi fucked Shinobu. Quite hard. Not a lot of preparation was offered, not that Shinobu seemed to give a shit, seeing as he constantly moaned with pleasure, gasping out broken words and sentences of encouragement.

Orgasm hit the other man swiftly.

He panted over Shinobu, trembling slightly from the effects of afterglow. His eyes were closed gently, sweaty brow more tensely knit together.

When he opened his eyes, he was met with the open view of the blond underneath him, still heavy aroused—the boy hadn't released yet, but was clearly working on that. Shinobu's small, rough hand was stroking his fully hard member while panting softly, glassy eyes directed at Miyagi's face.

The man watched, but his brain was mush. All thoughts were colliding, spiralling out of control, until he couldn't even attempt to come to a coherent conclusion as to what was happening—what _just _happened a moment ago when he was mounting into the young body for all he was worth. And his stomach—oh, good God, his stomach...

It was like time was going in slow motion, staring at the masturbating boy beneath him. And every second, every goddamn splinter of a second, his stomach felt more contorted and vile, a sinking feeling overtaking the professor.

He didn't even register the boy writhing in a blissful orgasm. But what he did notice was cum—another man's fucking _semen—_covering portions of Shinobu's stomach and drops on his own. A man—a teenager, a boy, a minor— was in the afterglow stage underneath him, his fluids touching the both of them. And the elder was still _inside _the guy. Gods...

Miyagi felt sick. Fuck, he was _repulsed_. He wasn't sure what part of the situation made him want to empty his twisting stomach out—be it him fucking an under-aged thing, a brat, a male, a dirty slut—but God, did he want to get away from Shinobu.

When the kid reached up to try and wrap his arms around the man's neck—Shinobu's eyes looked so damn happy, so comforted and at peace—Miyagi snapped away from the touch. He nearly jumped off the boy, ignoring the alarmed, startled look from Shinobu, and automatically worked to getting his trousers back on.

"Miyagi?"

He scanned the floor for wherever the fuck he'd thrown his shirt, until his eyes landed on Shinobu sitting up in his bed, concern etching his pretty little face. He was naked, ruffled, freshly screwed and probably getting sore, and Miyagi's stomach made another unpleasant turn.

He had to get this kid out of here. Now.

"Get up."

Shinobu appeared genuinely confused at his request. "What?"

The man groaned, turned away, offered a curt repeat of, "Get up," before sauntering back out into the living room where he began to pick up Shinobu's discarded clothing.

He turned to see Shinobu standing at the bedroom's door frame, all wrapped up in an ivory white bed sheet from his waist down. He looked as still as some kind of statue carved by talented angels—except the kid had a number of bite marks covering his body, and Miyagi knew Shinobu was far from having any kind of innocence of an angel. Now the kid looked like a replica of the devil, sent on earth in disguise to fool lusting old bastards like Miyagi.

And the professor didn't even believe in things like that—Shinobu really fucked his mind. Just like Miyagi fucked his ass. Fuck.

"Miya—"

The man stuffed the messy pile of clothing into Shinobu's free arm—the one he used to hold up the sheet—before the blond could utter another syllable. Miyagi avoided eye contact with Shinobu and ordered, "Get dressed." He sounded painfully lifeless and bland.

He walked away from Shinobu and ran a hand through his messy hair, hoping the boy was following his instructions.

Miyagi flinched embarrassingly and turned when a hand was felt on his shoulder, which immediately withdrew again with the murderous look Miyagi was unknowingly showing on his face. Shinobu was thankfully dressed again, just like the man requested, but the look of confusion—maybe a bit of worry?—never faltered.

"What's wrong?" Shinobu's voice was stoic, as usual. God, couldn't the brat _ever_ have a bit of emotion in his voice? Miyagi was racking his brain up for answers; '_Why, why, __**why**__ did you make him fuck him? __**Why**__ did you make this street rat look so damn irresistible?_'

And here, the boy didn't seem to find a single thing wrong with what happened, didn't show a hint of evident regret or understanding of how big of a _mistake_it was to let the brat step foot in Miyagi's apartment. No—Shinobu's only discomfort was due to his simple confusion as to why they stopped and why they weren't still continuing. It was only for himself, the little shit.

Miyagi grimaced at Shinobu's messy hair, the hickeys _still _showing on his neck, the hoodie unable to cover all of them. He looked at the puffy red lips and looked behind the boy, at the bed sheet messily crumpled on the floor. It probably had Shinobu's jizz on it too, seeing as the man hadn't offered some tissue to wipe it off. Shinobu wasn't a fucking woman—how was Miyagi supposed to remember giving tissues to a bed mate who wouldn't need tissues in normal circumstances?

And with that thought in mind, the bitter feelings he'd been exhibiting came crashing back to him and he had to get rid of this kid.

"Wha—?!" Shinobu was startled when Miyagi grabbed onto his shoulder and steered him in the direction of the front door.

"You have to leave," the man offered simply, brows coming together tighter when Shinobu was quite reluctant to move quick enough.

"But—" He had his blond head turned towards the direction of the window. When Miyagi also followed that gaze, he had to look away and refocus on scooting the boy out of the place. He didn't realize the dark clouds overwhelming the sky. Or the _nasty _snowstorm falling out from under the swarm, spitting excessive amounts of snow onto the streets.

"Leave."

When he managed to get the teen just outside the doorway, Shinobu turned around to look at Miyagi and the man cringed at the almost terrified look the boy flashed him.

"Mi—!"

"Goodnight." Miyagi closed the door in his face. He locked it and stepped away, letting out a breath of relief when he didn't hear any knocking or voices calling for him to come back and let him back in.

But he wasn't feeling better now that Shinobu was gone. Hell no—if anything he felt worse.

He had to sit down again, suddenly feeling low. Very, very low—lower than he'd ever felt in his entire life. He just kicked out a boy he'd consciously fucked out of his own irresponsibility and kicked him out into the freezing cold snowstorm in the middle of the night, knowing how the boy wasn't wearing anything fit to protect him from the frosty blizzard brewing outside. The man didn't even allow the boy to spend money on the blanket he was going to purchase with the promise Shinobu could stay with him whenever needed.

And now Shinobu _needed _to stay, but Miyagi didn't allow it.

Yeah, Miyagi was _low_.

He needed to do something—_anything _to get his stomach to stop retching with guilt and self-loathing over the lingering disgust he was still feeling.

He picked himself up and went straight for the shower. He washed away the physical remains of his sick wrongdoings, even though nothing could be done to fix his internal conflict. He dried himself off, threw all his sheets into the hamper replaced them, and went to bed.

And that was that. Everything else, he'd clean up later.

If only he could get the image of Shinobu's face out of his mind. The look of him just after orgasm, when he looked so euphoric, and peaceful, and genuinely _happy _like he'd never felt any joy in years.

And during that exact moment, Shinobu looked lovely... almost beautiful, even. Not even a crude like Miyagi was capable of missing that fact.

* * *

**AN**: Don't hate Miyagi—hate me for making him do all that stuff.

And lemme know what you think of this bad boy. I always want to cry whenever I see someone add one of my stories to their alerts/favourites (especially favourites) and not leave some sort of comment or feedback. I mean it's not like I want an essay or Master's thesis on it xD

Next chapter, there will actually be some romance :) So stay tuned or whatever.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN**: ATTENTION! (Gods, that looks lame but I'ma keep it there regardless xD) I lied in the first chapter—this update is NOT the end. I decided to turn this into a three-part fic, because that's simply the way it's gonna roll (those of you who follow my _Terrorist Pieces_ fic already know of this.) The next chapter will be the ending though, and that much certain. At first I was very wary of posting this by itself, without the events that will follow in the next chapter, because I thought this would be very dull in comparison to the first installment. So if this chapter bores or disappoints, then sorry, but at least it gets this stuff out of the way and the next chapter can jump straight into more interesting stuff :)

Also, a big _thank you_ goes to everyone who followed/fav'd/reviewed the first chapter. I didn't think many people would like it, so I'm glad the response I got has been positive so far :)

* * *

After Miyagi had finished all his work at the university, and spent quite some time bothering and pestering his poor coworker to 'quit being so boring' and 'live a little; geez, my poor Kamijou-tan needs to relaaaax,' Miyagi left his workplace and went to some new bar to unwind a bit.

He needed it after having to mark quite the stack of university essays (that he had _not_ pushed onto his lowly little buddy, Hiroki, when he was getting bored.) He could use a drink or two, and he was going to buy just that.

He'd even managed to convince (not bribe) his good friend Hiroki to come along for the ride. Miyagi was an amazing friend and coworker, being able to consider how Hiroki probably wanted and needed to be there.

"I don't want or need to be here, professor."

"Too bad." The older man of the two grinned smugly as they entered the building. "Just enjoy this and don't think about work for once. My treat."

"I still have some work to—"

"Tut tut." Miyagi dismissed the irritated man's grumbling with a simple hand gesture, much to Hiroki's annoyance. "Go find us a table or spot at the bar or wherever you want to sit. I have to use the toilet."

"Glad to know," Hiroki muttered.

"You know, from all that soup I—"

"Just _go_, professor!"

Miyagi loved igniting the short fuse to his coworker's demonic temper.

The man left with his everlasting smirk etched on his face and quickly washed his hands after doing his business. When he come out of the crumby men's bathroom, he surveyed the rest of the pub's area (which was a nice place; not _too_ many drunks and people mindlessly sucking face—at least for the type of city it resided in) and he did a freakin' double-take when his eye caught an image in the corner of the bar, of something he hadn't been anticipating.

Two large men, presumably in their late thirties or early forties, had their hands fondling and feeling up a smaller body sandwiched between them. One of them had his lips latched onto the kid's neck while the other one's hands snaked up the young blond's shirt, doing whatever he was doing to make the boy writhe and occasionally moan sensually. The eyes of the familiar boy were closed while the older men handled him, hands snaking through the hair of the gruff man sucking his neck.

When the man behind Shinobu moved a hand lower from his covered nipple down to his crotch, the teen groaned slightly more audibly and lolled his head back to rest against the guy's bulky shoulder. The one on his neck began to get more aggressive, pushing Shinobu to turn his head more into Miyagi's direction.

When the boy's eyes opened and connected to Miyagi's, the professor flinched and he swore his heart skipped three beats upon seeing hazy lust from the brat.

'_Fucking hell_,' the man thought, quickly turning on his heel and trekking away to find Hiroki again.

He met the other man sitting at a booth but didn't join him. "I'm leaving now, Kamijou." He quickly plopped some bills on the table, not caring that it was way too much yen to give one person for alcoholic if they didn't want to be hospitalized by morning. "Buy yourself some drinks and I'll see you tomorrow."

Ignoring the brunet's confused questions, Miyagi left the pub, promising himself to never, ever return to that place again, and marched in some random direction.

Three months, successfully not bumping into the kid, and now he just _had_ to see the boy. And worse, the kid had to see him. And worst of all, Miyagi had, once again, been in a trance with the boy, failing to leave _immediately_ and instead stayed to observe for a while. He hadn't been staring for _that_ long, but it was still long enough for Shinobu to notice him there. Fuck shit fuck.

An arm abruptly grabbed his elbow, turning him to look back. Miyagi gaped, now face to face with Shinobu, the one person he didn't want to see.

"Miyagi," the brat said simply. The man tried to ignore the freshly-suckled neck that was soon to grow a nice, fat bruise. "Are you busy?"

Yes. "No." Fuck.

Shinobu seemed to brighten slightly. "Have a coffee with me then. Haven't seen you in a while. How long has it been?"

Three months. "Don't know."

"Must have been since December or something..."

November twenty seventh, actually. "Probably," he replied weakly.

Suddenly, the professor was being pulled somewhere and he was almost scared to find out where he was being taken, but too pathetic to do anything about it. Maybe they were going to dine in the dumpsters or drink from the city's sewage system.

But when they arrived in front of Starbucks, Miyagi's brow rose. Shinobu ushered him inside where he was about to buy them some coffee, but Miyagi stepped in front and payed for the beverages himself.

"I could have paid, you know," Shinobu grumbled as they settled at a table, hot drink in hand. "I may not have a house or car, but I do earn some income."

"Yeah..." Miyagi tried not to remind himself where this 'income' came from. "Don't worry about it, kid. I receive more money anyway."

The blond kept his hands tight around the warm cup. "I could have gotten a bunch of cash just now though. From those two gentlemen at the pub."

Gentlemen. The way they touched Shinobu in there, playing with his body like he was some kind of cheap sex toy for them... Gentlemen—yeah fucking right.

The boy brought the beverage to his lips and let the steam waft against his lips. "They were a couple, those two, in an open relationship. They wanted to bring me to their place and have a threesome with me."

"Shinobu..."

"But I left to come here with you."

Miyagi brushed off the stupid feeling of flattery he was about to exhibit. _Why_ he would feel flattered at that was beyond the man's comprehension.

Miyagi braved the scorning heat and took a sip of his cup. "Why? Do you need something with me?"

A scowl overtook the boy's good looks and he shrugged. "Not really." He also tried to sip but flinched away from the coffee upon contact. The kid probably burnt his tongue and tried to hide it. Kind of cute, but Miyagi was too curious and confused to regard that.

"Doesn't it bother you?" the man finally asked, watching Shinobu's eyes meet his. "Sleeping around with so many guys the way you do. You know, not many people look up to that."

"It doesn't bother me." The boy didn't seem to care much. "Keeps me alive. I don't give a damn about other people's respect."

The man studied the teen for a moment before asking a question he'd been wondering for quite some time. "Why do you start sell yourself in the first place?"

Shinobu didn't say anything, and for a moment, Miyagi pondered whether the teen even heard the question.

But soon enough, the strange kid spoke up again. "It's a good option for me. Suitable, I guess."

"Didn't you finish high school?"

The blond nodded and sipped his toasty drink. "I graduated with top academics in my graduating class."

"Then you could have easily gone on to university. There are so many career opportunities that can be obtained from furthering your education."

"Probably," he said nonchalantly. "School was always dull and uninteresting for me. Apparently I did well, but as soon as I graduated, I had no desire to gain a degree or anything from a post-secondary institution."

Being a professor, Miyagi saw countless benefits towards attending college or university. He'd known many of his students to graduate and find successful careers as a result. Maybe it was simply him being a professor with a slight bias, but he couldn't comprehend why someone would prefer to live life on the streets, constantly selling their body to crusty nobodies, rather than pursue a real career.

After taking a long gulp, the raven-haired man asked, "Haven't you ever had some kind of dream or ambition in mind? Isn't there a job out there that you think you'd do well at?"

The boy pondered this for a short duration. "I guess there is one thing."

A small, victorious smile crossed the older man's handsome features. "And what would that be?"

The blond looked Miyagi in the eye as the professor took another gulp and asked, "Think I'd make it as a porn star?"

The man unintentionally swallowed some of the beverage down the wrong tube and ungracefully choked for a moment. Fuck—did this brat have no dignity? No shame or pride or anything? Goddamn him.

Miyagi wasn't entirely certain how to respond to the boy's inquiry; the man unfortunately thought Shinobu would be a very successful porn star, considering the certain _activities_ they'd done in the past, but he couldn't let the boy know that. It was his current goal to steer the teen _away_ from the sex industry.

The kid must have noticed Miyagi's inability to form a response because he began to speak. "I've been around sex for a big portion of my life." He was staring at his hands that were wrapped around the coffee as he spoke. "My biological mom was a hooker, you know. My real dad left her so she'd always meet with guys in some hotel room, in order to keep us alive."

Miyagi studied the boy and furrowed his brow, asking, "She told you that?"

"She always brought me with her."

"What?" A ebony brow arched full of enquiries at the teenager. He wasn't exactly sure what the blond meant.

Shinobu elaborated, "From when I was three until about six years old, there was nobody to take care of me whenever she needed to go out and earn some cash. Had horrible family relationships and babysitters were too costy. So she'd always go to the hotel first and hide me inside the closet all night while guys fucked her brains out."

"You mean you... Wait." Miyagi was a bit baffled by what he was being told. "She let her toddler hear what she doing with those men?"

Shinobu shrugged without care. "Usually I'd be able to see through cracks if I wanted to," he stated. "I got used to it though. But it was really difficult to sleep. And there were usually mosquitoes and other bugs there—I often used to get severely itchy skin, weird infections, and huge rashes. I was always more preoccupied with those kinds of things; knowing my mom was fucking right outside the closet doors didn't bother me in the least."

As Shinobu resumed to his beverage, Miyagi tried not to envision the teen's circumstances as a child. He didn't want to acquire sympathies for this boy—he had no desire to replay last time when he empathized with Shinobu, brought him home, and fucked him carelessly. Not to mention, what he'd done to the boy afterward was also beyond shitty.

Once Shinobu lowered the coffee, he resumed speaking. "My mom disowned me close to my seventh birthday. She couldn't manage to take care of me any longer and my skin was looking really bad, so she brought me to an adoption centre. I never spoke to her again after that, and I was adopted by a married couple really quickly.

"The people who took me in were able to take better care of me. They home schooled me for a while then put me into elementary school once I caught up with everyone else my age. I also got better from all those bug bites and rashes since they took me to the doctor."

Miyagi nodded and asked, "Were you happy in that home?"

"No." At Miyagi's quirk of the eyebrow, Shinobu explained with darkened features, "I hated the woman. It was her idea to adopt a child since she didn't want labour to harm her body. But she didn't truly want to have a kid—she was simply obsessed with her husband, who didn't give a damn about her or anything around him, except gambling. I guess she thought having a kid would bring them closer together as a couple. But he only married her because she was wealthy and could afford his gambling addiction,' he said. "She was stupid and didn't see it through her infatuation with him and ignored people who'd try to convince her. So I was simply a tool to bring them together."

Against his better judgement, Miyagi asked, "Did it work?"

"He hardly acknowledged my existence," the blond said. "Neither of them actually cared about me—they fed and took care of me, but I missed my real mom and my life before my adoptive parents. Even though my mom wasn't able to provide good conditions to raise me in, at least she loved me."

Miyagi felt his heart clench tighter at the tender expression Shinobu had. His eyes were slightly misted, staring at the plain table counter, like he was thinking about her, recollecting memories of her, wanting to go back and _be_ with her.

"I'm sorry about that." Miyagi wasn't sure what else to say.

Coming out of his nostalgic trance, Shinobu shrugged again. "Doesn't matter." He sat up straighter in his seat. "But anyway, I grew up with my adoptive parents and always despised the wife, how pathetic and desperate she was. She ignored me a lot and only gave me any attention when I really needed something. I was a depressed kid, and when I turned thirteen, I wanted to get back at her for always shunning me away."

Miyagi blinked when the blond suddenly landed his eyes on him.

"Do you know how to effectively make another person suffer?" the boy asked him.

The professor licked his lips, mentally thinking up of a number of ways to get revenge, but not wanting to give this kid the wrong response. He sat silently.

Shinobu looked back to the table as he took a brief sip. "I didn't attack her directly. In order to be affective, I had to direct my intentions at something else, whatever she loved and treasured most in her life. It didn't take long for me to figure out what that something was.

"One night when she went drinking with coworkers, I came on to her husband. He was being a slob, drinking sake and playing online poker, not paying attention to me, as per usual. But that night, I definitely made him notice me." The teen licked his moist lips. "When he was about to get more alcohol, he pulled his chair away from the desk, and I went onto my knees between his legs. He didn't ask questions or try to stop me when I undid his pants and sucked him off right there."

A brief image of a blond head bobbing over and over on his member unwillingly came to to the professor's mind.

Shinobu continued, "He loved it. He pulled on my hair and pushed my head down on him harder and harder, and I had to take more cock in my mouth than I thought was even possible for me. When he came, I wasn't finished—I climbed onto his lap and forced my hips down onto his and _rubbed_. He was hard again, unusually quick, and grabbed me, tossed me carelessly onto the floor, tore off my clothing, and—"

"Okay." Miyagi was rubbing his forehead, trying to rid of the visuals of _himself_ stripping the same kid and preparing to have _his_ way with him. He wondered how many men had reacted so gluttonous and lust-driven with Shinobu, but quickly figured it would be far more than he'd like to consider.

"Basically, we fucked long, dirty, and rotten for hours and hours throughout the night." Shinobu went silent for a moment, thoughtful yet expressionless. "He was my very first."

Miyagi didn't know what to feel about that. So he voiced nothing.

"It went on for about seven months. The wife would be at work, he'd stay home and fuck me breathless. Sometimes when he'd be in a foul mood, he'd be rougher and punch and scream nonsense at me. But I didn't care. I'd always let him in and use me as much as he wanted to.

"Then one night, she came home unexpectedly early. I was riding him on the couch when she caught us; apparently it was quite a shocker because she was too frozen and speechless to say anything until he came hard into me." The teen smirked as he recalled the memory. "I guess it didn't help that he was quite vocally panting my name out, without even realizing that she was right in front of us."

"How did she take it?" the professor asked hoarsely.

"Everything went to shit for them. Well, for her anyway. I don't think the husband really cared much, but for days she would scream and sob at him until eventually they stopped talking altogether. And until I turned eighteen, finished high school, and left the house entirely, they hardly had contact. And then they divorced since I was out of the picture and they no longer had to support me."

"Ah..." Miyagi said in disbelief, trying to ignore the lameness in his response. It was difficult to come up with something to tell the blond; he had no idea how he should feel about him. Shinobu had indeed been under unfortunate circumstances as a child, and he'd also destroyed a marriage. Sure the couple was a little screwy in this first place, but what the kid had done with them also seemed faulty in itself.

"I'm renting a place now," Shinobu said, breaking the tense silence between them.

"Oh?"

"I get my own bedroom and have to share the kitchen and bathroom with others. It's a shitty place compared to yours, but I'm not one to complain about it. It's cheap."

"Mm."

Shinobu glanced in the professor's direction, and for some stupid reason it made Miyagi nervous, but then Shinobu said, "Look," motioning his chin at something behind the professor.

He slowly turned in his seat to see a couple of empty tables and the window with a couple people settling into a table with their coffee outside.

Before he could enquire what he was supposed to be looking at, Shinobu said, "The blond woman outside. That's my mother. My real one."

When the professor looked back, his eyes drew to a small, middle-aged woman with thin blonde hair and a tired face. She was seated with a man around the same age as her and they were each chatting with steaming coffee or something in their hands.

"My mom," Shinobu said, "doesn't ever notice me here. But I always look at her—I always come to this café around this time or later, because she's usually here with someone." He sipped his drink slowly, eyes fluttered shut.

Miyagi stared at Shinobu's mother some more, at first wondering if she still sold herself to survive, but she was wearing a work uniform of some sort. Then he wondered what kind of job she worked now, what sort of lifestyle she lived now, how she couldn't recognize her own son sitting _right here_. But of course someone wouldn't recognize another person after being separated for the majority of their upbringing.

The professor wondered what the woman would think if she found out that the boy she tried to take away from prostitution was now a prostitute himself.

Then Miyagi flicked his eyes away from her, realizing that he was staring rudely.

"So, Miyagi. What about yourself?" Shinobu was focused on the older man, who gave back nothing more than a bland expression. "I told you about me. What kind of job do you have?"

Miyagi subtly perked at the change of conversation, always delighted to talk about his career. "I teach at a university," he said.

"A prof?" With the way both of the blond's brows rose, it didn't seem that Shinobu had been expecting that response. "What subject?"

"Japanese Literature. I teach and do a lot of research on old poets. Like Matsuo Basho."

"Ahh, so you're one of those geezers who sit around for hours in a swamp of rusty, old books," the prostitute teased, and before Miyagi had a chance to provide some sort of retort, Shinobu continued, "Never thought I'd speak to someone with a profession like after I graduated high school. Most people I talk to are unemployed, minimum wage earners, or have unorganized jobs... like mine."

"Opposite of me," the ebony-haired man mumbled to himself, soon taking a long gulf of his coffee. He didn't know if Shinobu even heard what he said, and with the way Shinobu studied him, it could have been either way.

"I think I kind of like you, Miyagi."

* * *

It was strange the way some people made friends, let alone who they became friends _with_. Never in his entire life did Miyagi anticipate getting seduced by a man, bed him, treat him like dirt, and then form a decent, friendly relationship with him. But it happened, and now Miyagi had a good and comfortable, if not a little odd, friendship with a prostitute named Shinobu.

Back in Starbucks, when Miyagi first heard the blond say that he "thought he kind of liked him," Miyagi got a little terrified at the idea. He felt like shooting up to dump the rest of his warm coffee over that sandy head of the boy and exclaim something like, "_Are you insane? What the fuck is wrong with you?_"

But luckily, he had no time for that; Miyagi was almost too quickly graced with a little smile from the typically stoic boy instead, and was then told that Shinobu was going to start visiting him at his apartment sometimes. Before the professor could deny the blond that idea, Shinobu was already departing from his seat and exiting the café with a brief "later, Miyagi" tossed over his shoulder.

Since then, Shinobu made his first visit to Miyagi's apartment a night after their little rendezvous at Starbucks. They didn't do much; Miyagi was busying preparing for the upcoming week's lectures at the university, but allowed Shinobu to come inside regardless. The blond busied himself with the television and didn't speak at all to Miyagi. The professor allowed the boy to stay the night, which Shinobu accepted, but was gone the very next morning.

Shinobu came back a couple weeks later, looking a little rough—torn clothing, what little of it there was, sleep-deprived eyes, red and purple busing around the neck—but didn't behave beyond his usual, stoic self. They chatted a little ("Have you been doing well, Shinobu?" He received a nod in response.) Miyagi wasn't particularly busy that evening and kept more of an eye on his guest; it was rare for Shinobu to set his gaze anywhere else other than Miyagi, all the way until they settled for the night to slumber. And again, Shinobu vanished from Miyagi's futon the next morning, without so much as a word.

The next time Miyagi saw the little blond wonder was a week and a half later. Shinobu was a little stiff and unsettled that night, which minimally alarmed the professor upon opening the door for him.

"What's the problem, Shinobu?"

The blond, with his brows set furrowed, sauntered past the older man, through the living room, and welcomed himself into Miyagi's bathroom. When he reemerged, a smudge of dirt that had been sprawled over a portion of his pale cheek was gone, but his frown lingered. Miyagi was waiting for him near the bathroom, though he was, again, ignored. Shinobu moved to brush past the older man, gaze settled at anyplace _but _Miyagi. Though, in a spontaneous motion, the raven-haired man caught the youth's forearm.

"Shinobu. Speak to me." Miyagi bore his eyes onto the blond, who went ridged. The man pulled him closer, other hand gently grasping the kid's shoulder, and they were facing one another. Shinobu still refused to return his gaze.

Miyagi sported a frown of his own, hand abandoning the blond's forearm to take Shinobu's chin and tilt the boy's face to him. After a hesitant moment, Shinobu looked back at him and Miyagi blinked at the emotion he initially missed on the blond's face—Shinobu was upset. Something was making him upset and frustrated, and strangely, that in itself made Miyagi feel frustrated as well.

'_The fuck? Is Shinobu alright? Did someone hurt him? Rape him? Fucking..._'

"Tell me what's wrong," Miyagi said, much more sternly, with traces of worry etched in his overall distressed expression. He knew Shinobu was an overall tough guy, so for something to effect the kid like this couldn't have been nothing.

Again, Shinobu diverted his gaze, and made a small effort to escape, but Miyagi strictly held his shoulders to prevent departure. It made the blond scowl, but Miyagi disregarded it. "Nothing," Shinobu muttered.

"Bull."

"...You..."

An ebony brow rose. Miyagi's eyes kept flicking back and forth between the kid's two diverted ones. "...I what?"

Shinobu's scowl morphed deeper, his cheeks—to Miyagi's ever growing confusion—turning pink. "You didn't... open the door."

The blond still wasn't looking at the professor, and said professor was still oblivious as fuck, and the kid's lack of description was just barely helping him out.

"What door? When?"

Then abruptly, Shinobu squeezed his grey eyes shut and yanked himself out of Miyagi's grasp, startling the older man. "You didn't answer the door yesterday! Or three days ago—I came by to visit you but you didn't want to let me in!"

Miyagi deadpanned, watching this kid attempt to calm himself from his tangent.

"I just... You should just _tell_ me that you want me to leave, rather than ignore me. I already know you probably prefer it when I'm not around..." Scowl, diverted eyes, flushed cheeks were present—all things Miyagi hadn't ever seen before from this brat.

With a hand on his hip, Miyagi cocked an eyebrow and asked the blond, "What the hell are you talking about?"

Apparently that simple inquiry pissed Shinobu off, his anger flashing through his eyes for a brief second as he finally connected his eyes to Miyagi's. "Three days ago and then yesterday, too! I came over and knocked, you didn't bother responding, so I waited a bit and tried knocking again, but you still didn't want me in!"

The boy paced back and forth in the small space, finally letting something out after all this time, showing Miyagi a new side he possessed.

"I don't want to be ignored by you, so don't." The blond stopped in his distressed tracks and faced Miyagi with all the hurt evident in his eyes and slightly pouting lips. "If you want me to get lost or something, then tell me to! I don't like being left hanging like that, not knowing if you suddenly decided you don't want anything to do with me, or if you began to hate me!"

Miyagi took his time, absorbing this kid's face, the posture, his words, everything—he'd never seen the boy behave so genuinely and openly, asking something from Miyagi instead of offering it. It was a rare sight and the older man wanted to remember it and see it more often, and maybe some time, he could catch a glimpse of this kid in a happy state as well. Shinobu had always kept everything concealed, carefully hidden, and now the front the blond had always let up was dissolved.

The man noted the tight fists, tense back, furrowed brows, gentle flush, and grey eyes that darted back and forth between both of Miyagi's. The professor was aware that each second he spent to observe the kid was agony to Shinobu, but the blond was just... he was so... dammit.

"Shinobu, you came to visit me yesterday? And, what... Tuesday, as well?"

Glumly, the teen nodded his head.

"You idiot." Miyagi felt like laughing in Shinobu's face, but with a grimace sent his way for the insult, the old man settled for a smile that displayed all his amusement instead. "Yesterday I went out to drink with a coworker of mine. We stayed out pretty late. And on Tuesday, I was loaded with so much work at the university that I decided to spend the night there."

The man was so close to releasing a snicker at the sudden dumbfounded expression the blond was now sporting at the elder.

"There was no ignoring on my part, kid. I just wasn't home—and if I had been, I would have let you in as I usually do."

Blinking rapidly, eyes expanded in bewilderment, Shinobu tried to say something but all that came out was a stammered mess that Miyagi felt like chuckling at. And Shinobu could see just how entertained the elder man was, with the way Miyagi made absolutely no effort to hide it. So with his cheeks heavily flushed, the boy simply huffed and trekked into Miyagi's kitchen with swift strides.

The professor stayed where he was, a broad grin displayed across his face, to give the flustered teen a moment to relax again. He liked Shinobu like that—he honestly did. He hadn't been aware of how short a fuse the boy possessed, and how much he sought for Miyagi's attention like that—the professor just hadn't known or ever thought the kid to be so sensitive.

Shinobu was really sensitive...

That was so fucking adorable.

* * *

The visits continued on, slowly getting more frequent as the months progressed. They began to engage in conversations when Miyagi wasn't too busy with work, sometimes finding themselves in very thought-provoking discussions or debates with one another. The older man enjoyed his time spent speaking with the blond, and he genuinely hoped the boy himself did as well.

Shinobu still got a bit touchy whenever he'd stop by and Miyagi wasn't home, but desperately tried hiding it. The boy was never certain if Miyagi really _wasn't_ home like he claimed, or if he was just lying and didn't want to deal with the younger man. It was during those arguments themed around that issue when Miyagi would see how truly insecure the teen was about himself.

So to prove to the boy that the man was never trying to push him away anymore, and also because it worried him whenever he couldn't let the boy in, Miyagi went out and got another key to his apartment for Shinobu to keep and use whenever he wanted.

"...What...?"

Miyagi smirked at Shinobu's cute, flabbergasted expression as he held up the duplicate key delicately in his hands, treating it very carefully as though he were afraid he'd break it.

Shinobu's grey eyes rapidly darted back and forth in disbelief between the silver apartment key and the professor. "This is for... me?"

Holding back a laugh, Miyagi instead reached over and ruffled the kid's blond hair, causing Shinobu's flush to deepen. "Yeah, you can have it if you want. I don't like the idea of being unable to let you in and making you have to sleep somewhere more uncomfortable."

"I told you that I already have my own place..." He couldn't stop ogling at the duplicate key in his fingers, which Miyagi found oddly endearing.

"Yes, but you also mentioned once that the bed isn't very comfortable at your place," Miyagi stated, enjoying seeing the kid attempt to hide his happiness.

"...Did you give anyone else their own key to your apartment?"

Miyagi opened his mouth to respond, though when he realized the answer, he hesitated in surprise. "No. You're the only one, besides myself, who has one." He would never give a key to just anyone, and it was startling to know that Shinobu of all people was the only one he found worthy enough of giving a key to. And he didn't know what part of Shinobu he seemed to trust, aware of the kid's lifestyle, but he still had the feeling that he wouldn't regret this decision.

Shinobu went still and silent, simply gazing at the tightly clutched key in both his hands. For a second, Miyagi thought he saw a little twinkle or something in the kid's eyes, but he didn't have time to look for long before the blond suddenly threw his arms around the older man and toppled both of them against kitchen counter they were both standing next to.

"Wha—Shinobu?!" He heard a clinking noise beside them and found that the boy actually dropped the key onto the floor. Miyagi tried chuckling, and not sure what to do with his hands, he placed them hesitantly around the body that was half flopped on top of him. "O-Oi, don't tell me you're going to lose my apartment key already."

Shinobu squeezed tighter, nuzzling almost sweetly against Miyagi's neck. The older man's heart was beating faster as he gazed down at the blond head, their torsos flush together with the strength Shinobu put into hugging him.

"Shinobu...?"

"...Thank you..."

Miyagi tried not to think that his face felt hotter than usual, trying to play everything off with a casual chuckle and awkward back rub.

"...Sure."

Shinobu having his own device to enter Miyagi's apartment on his own was definitely a good idea. They became closer, the blond's insecurities decreasing, and Miyagi was often pleasantly surprised to find his home occupied when he returned from a long, stressful day at work.

Sometimes Shinobu was watching whatever he could find on TV, sometimes he was mooching off of the older man's food from the fridge, and sometimes he'd be finishing up a shower in the man's bathroom. The blond was typically awake and eager to greet the dark-haired man, but there'd also be a few precious times the professor would come home and discover the boy passed out on the couch. Since Shinobu was always gone in the morning when he spent the night there, Miyagi had never seen him asleep before; he never thought the boy to appear so at peace and almost innocent when sleep claimed him.

But on another note, the professor knew that the kid had to be utterly spent for him to pass out so quickly, unable to wait long enough for Miyagi to arrive home. He tried not to let his thoughts drive to the kid's work and think that that was the cause of Shinobu's exhaustion.

But within a month's time, the visits increased at an intensely rapid pace. Soon it came to the point where the blond came by _every day_, which Miyagi pretended to scold him for, but was inwardly happy to be seeing the little shit so frequently. Shinobu also decided to sleep there more and more, even bothering to stay for breakfast the next morning. Miyagi loved teasing him about his messy bed hair, chuckling with a fluttering heart as he watched the kid scramble to fix his blond hair and make it neat again.

The professor tried to pretend it didn't bother him, when one afternoon, he wasn't greeted by the sight of the young man when he came home from work. Figuring that the kid would pop up later, the man simply flicked on the news channel and watched, with a hope that it would be any second until Shinobu would barge in and land himself a spot next to the man. But that moment didn't happen.

The exact same thing played out the next day...and the next. He received absolutely no word from the boy, which was eating at him as the hours went on. He wished the blond had a cellphone or even a home phone to contact him at, but he knew that Shinobu couldn't afford those things. And with all the uncertainty that plagued the older man's mind, he couldn't stop imagining all the worst possible scenarios that could have went down: Shinobu was beaten, Shinobu was in the hospital, Shinobu was kidnapped, Shinobu was arrested, Shinobu was dead, Shinobu was raped, Shinobu was beaten down to a hospitalized state then kidnapped when released until he was arrested along with his kidnapper and died in prison as all those thugs proceeded to rape his dead body...

Miyagi nearly drove his car into a truck as he was driving home from work.

He was seriously going out of his mind, hardly able to even concentrate on work that day with all his thoughts going to Shinobu, and Shinobu only. It unnerved the man to notice just how much this was bothering him, considering that the blond was twenty years old, a legal adult, who was fully capable of taking care of himself.

Regardless of that, Miyagi decided to quickly come home to fetch that scrap piece of paper where Shinobu once wrote down his address. Then he would rush over to the boy's place, where he'd never visited before (to the boy's dismay), and break in if he had to in order to find the kid. And if the blond wasn't there, then the man tried not to think he'd have a heart attack on the spot, though it was very likely.

When he arrived at his apartment building, he parked his automobile in a rather crooked manner, very well sprinted up the stairways and hallways, and burst through his front door, not stopping in his run until he froze at the sound of a confused voice.

"Miyagi?"

The door was still wide open and the man was halfway to his bedroom, stupefied as he turned his head to the kitchen to find Shinobu staring confusedly at him. The boy was at the sizzling stove, one of Miyagi shirts tied around his torso and covering his stomach.

"What the hell are you doing, old man?" he asked, redirecting his attention from the steaming, frying pan to the man in the living room, cocked eyebrow and hand on hip. Shinobu looked like he wanted to express how stupid the man looked to him right now, but it was unnecessary to voice it since his face said it all.

"I, uh..." Miyagi visibly relaxed his stiff posture and almost too calmly went over to the door and shut it. Shinobu watched in confusion as Miyagi also took off his shoes and hung his jacket, as though he hadn't just exploded through the door and nearly tore the thing right off its hinges. "Oh, nothing, Shinobu-chin. Nothing at all," he stated with an odd smile, stalking up next to the brat to ruffle his hair.

"Yeah, but you just—"

"Nah, you're just imagining things," he said casually, his heart pounding rapidly within his chest as overwhelming relief swam throughout his body. "Now, what are you doing, Shinobu?" His arm slung across the boy's shoulders when he was done messing Shinobu's hair up and gestured to the greenish brown, gunky-looking stuff sitting in on the stove.

While the blond still appeared sceptical of the sweaty professor, he responded, "I'm making dinner for us. Duh."

Resisting the urge to playfully swat his hand at the boy, he looked at Shinobu and inquired, "Since when did you ever cook?" He then glanced back at the pan and unthinkingly blurted out, "That shit's supposed to be _edible_?"

The man felt like slapping himself when he heard the boy huff under and breath and attempt to pull away from Miyagi's arm, but the professor tightened his hold on him.

"Heh. Sorry, brat."

"Damn old man," Shinobu muttered. "So ungrateful."

"I said I'm sorry, you twit." Miyagi laughed while the blond tried to suppress a smile of his own.

"You eat out too much," the boy stated, lifting a wooden spoon to stir the contents of the pan, only the find the most of it was stuck to the bottom. The kid then had to put in a bunch of effort to scrap it off, cursing a bunch of colourful language under his breath, until some of it chipped, revealing pit-black char at the bottom of the otherwise greenish brown, gunky-looking stuff. "Gotta eat healthier if you wanna live long, Miyagi."

The elder held back a number of enquiries he had about their supposed 'healthy dinner' and instead asked, "Are you using my shirt as an apron?"

"...I couldn't find anything better to use," Shinobu mumbled, grunting as he failed to scrape up one of the larger pieces of mutilated food. "Who would've thought cooking could be so damn difficult." With a defeated sigh, the blond reached across the counter and poured in an excessive amount of vegetable oil.

"Whoa—" Miyagi took a quick step back as there was a sudden, quick flame that burst before them. "Easy there—turn the heat down a bit!" The man swiftly flicked the heat to a lower setting before he gave the teen a chance to do it.

"Just you wait, Miyagi," Shinobu said determinedly, as though unaware of the utter destruction that was sizzling in front of him. "Soon I'll have the most delicious cabbage stir fry for you to eat tonight.

'_That used to be cabbage_?'

They both stood there, Miyagi rubbing Shinobu's back while the blond kept cooking. Minutes passed without much communication until Miyagi accidently spoke what he was thinking.

"Where were you these past few days?"

Shinobu looked at the man with raised brows, making Miyagi's eyes widen and quickly look away, his free arm rising to scratch at his head.

"Not that I particularly care or anything, ahaha."

Shinobu redirected his attention to his cabbage dinner and eventually told the other man, "...I had to work."

'_Oh_,' the professor thought, his eyes falling downcast.

The blond swallowed and said, "I needed to pay my rent or the landlord would have evicted me. I've been spending so much time here that I haven't been earning nearly enough money as I normally do, so I needed to spend the last few days to find and serve customers."

Miyagi was grateful that Shinobu never spoke about his work or customers with much detail to him anymore. The professor loathed what Shinobu did for a living. The subject of it rarely came up in their conversations, and ever since their talk in Starbucks, they never mentioned anything to do with sex to each other, but if ever a time arose when Shinobu mentioned his job as a prostitute, he'd go into very little detail. And for that, Miyagi was grateful—if he thought too much about the reality of Shinobu preforming such vulgar activities with men on a regular basis, frustration swelled from within the professor.

So Miyagi found it much easier to not allow their conversation topics and his thoughts to stray to that. And it worked well for the most part—he'd busy himself with something to dissolve his thoughts, or the man (sometimes even Shinobu) began to talk about anything other than the prostitute's work.

"Why were you in such a panic when you came home today?" Shinobu attentively turned his head to look at the man who cursed internally at the question.

"What? I wasn't panicked," he denied rather convincingly. "I was just... exercising." That may have been a rather pitiful excuse, even for him, but he hoped the blond would buy it anyway.

"Seriously?" the boy said indubiously. He then redirected his gaze to their dinner. "You're so weird."

Miyagi felt like letting out a big sigh of relief. He wasn't willing to admit that he'd gotten so worked up over his stupid thoughts of Shinobu being severely wounded or dead.

The boy began stabbing at the cabbage pieces with his wooden spoon, watching them sizzle and spit tiny drips of oil around a small proximity. "You looked so frantic and stressed out back there until I spoke to you. Then you were all completely normal and shit." He smooshed the spoon against one unlucky piece of cabbage, trying to split it in half. "Then you ask me where I've been... You usually never show any interest over what I do in my free time."

When the kid paused and rose his brows in a possible epiphany, Miyagi felt like releasing another curse. He knew Shinobu was a smart kid and was capable of piecing things together.

Slowly, the boy glanced back at the older man who immediately averted his gaze elsewhere (and almost  
cringed at himself for acting so blatantly obvious), then asked, "Were you worried about me?"

"Er, well—"

"You were worried about me." His voice held so much joy and relief, maybe even a glimmer of hope, that he didn't even attempt to censor.

The professor was caught dead, as much as he didn't like that fact. He chanced a peek back at the boy and was startled to see such a tiny, yet very sincere smile. The boy simply glowed and Miyagi hated it, but he loved it so much. He should have been scolding the little shit not to go jumping into his own conclusions based on mere hunches, but instead he was tongue-tied and also confused why the brat even felt so much happiness from the idea of Miyagi worrying over him.

The professor swallowed as Shinobu moved much closer to him, leaning against his shoulder and making himself comfortable there.

Miyagi also felt more snug like that, against his common knowledge that only _couples_ got that close to each other. And as far as he was concerned, they were _not_ a thing.

But he was content like that, as he was also certain Shinobu was pretty comfortable himself, even though they were close and touching and Shinobu's head was right there within kissing range...

And that idea didn't even seem like a bad one at that moment, even though he didn't act on it.

* * *

'_Shinobu is cute. Shinobu is cute. Shinobu is cute..._'

Miyagi was officially losing it. He and Shinobu cut evenings spent together down to about three or four, sometimes five times a week. The professor noticed that he was always looking forward to leaving work and coming home, which was bizarre in itself since everyone was aware of how enthused the man was in any regards to his work.

Then if he'd arrive home to an empty apartment, the man's mood would inexplicably drop acutely low. He wouldn't necessarily get angry or sad, but the disappointment would cause for a frown to settle on his face for the rest of the day.

There was no schedule for Shinobu to visit; the boy would either be there or not be there when he got home. Once or twice the professor tried to enquire whether or not he'd see him tomorrow, and Shinobu responded with an uninformative "maybe". Then Miyagi would ponder back on his inquiry and take note on how uncool and needy he sounded by asking the blond that question; he never asked it again and dwelt internally for a while about the fact that he was becoming more dependent on the boy's visits.

And while Miyagi became a grouch whenever he couldn't see the little shit, when he _was_ granted with the boy's presence (whether the boy would be in the shower, sleeping on his bed when not supposed to, or even cooking some of that dreadful cabbage creation only Shinobu can make), the professor would feel incredibly joyful on the inside and wouldn't waste any time to interact with the boy (whether by suddenly pounding on the bathroom door to alarm the blond in the middle of his shower, put another blanket on his sleeping body and pet his hair, or make a sarcastic and teasing comment on Shinobu's cabbage obsession.)

'_Shinobu is cute. Shinobu is cute. Shinobu is cute_.'

There were many subtle changes the man was beginning to notice about himself which pertained to Shinobu. For instance, he'd always be very aware of the blond. He was perspective in noticing the kid's subtly unconcealed emotions, his random blushes, the way he enjoyed sitting closer to Miyagi than really necessary, the way he'd gaze at the older man when he thought he wasn't looking, the cute way he'd scrunch his nose or flat out glare when he found something unappealing...

And that was another thing—Miyagi caught himself, on multiple occasions, thinking that Shinobu was _cute_. He knew he'd done it before a couple of times in the past, but lately the thought came across his mind much more frequently than Miyagi believed to be healthy.

Maybe the little shit was doing it all on purpose and messing with him—Miyagi did take in and consider that possibility. But even with every manipulative skill a kid would be capable of possessing, he did not believe it would be possible for the brat to control his thoughts and simultaneously make his chest feel all fluttery around the blond's presence the way it did.

'_Shinobu is cute. Shinobu is cute_.'

Miyagi tried to find a way to prevent himself from thinking that the boy was cute. He'd chant constantly in his head, _Shinobu is not cute. Shinobu is far from cute. Shinobu is anything __**but**__ cute._ Miyagi did that for almost a whole evening straight when Shinobu wasn't around, and he thought it could work. But the next day, when he arrived home early and caught Shinobu wearing and smelling _his_ sweater, furiously blushing and stammering poor excuses upon the realization that he'd been caught, all Miyagi's previous attempts came down to a firm success rate of negative fifty percent.

'_Shinobu is cute_.'

So Miyagi gave into his instincts and accepted the fact that there would be inevitable instances where he would notice how cute Shinobu was. Thus, in order for him to get used to his acceptance that Shinobu was indeed a cute thing, the man began to chant in his head the opposite of what he was chanting prior.

'_Shinobu's cute_,' he thought as he approached his apartment unit after a long day at the university. He got his key out upon reaching the right door and stuck it into the hole. '_Shinobu is cute. Shinobu is cu—Ah, fuck, just look at how adorable he is_.'

When he opened the door, Shinobu was standing expectantly on the other side in wait. The boy had both of his hands hidden behind his back, obviously trying to hide something from him, but the professor wasn't yet paying too much attention at that. Instead, he was pleasantly amused that Shinobu was sporting a frown and heavy blush on his face at the same time, just like he always did was when was about to do or say something embarrassing for him.

"Why, hello, Shinobu-chin," he greeted, loving the way Shinobu scowled and flushed further at his grin.

"W-Welcome home," the blond stammered adorably.

Miyagi, still happily smiling, took his shoes off and hung his jacket. He then ventured inside and Shinobu followed him in, turning his body carefully to ensure Miyagi wouldn't catch sight of whatever it was he had behind his back.

They sat on the couch, Miyagi sitting properly while Shinobu was on his folded legs and facing the older man.

"Um..." The boy shifted with uncertainty, with his eyes drifting down at the carpet.

Miyagi considered being a douche and saying something smug to piss the kid off, but he decided to be nice and allow Shinobu do this at his own pace.

The blond sat, his mind possibly scrambling at an unhealthy pace to come up with something appropriate to say. "I, uh..." But he was clearly failing. "You... Um, today, er..."

'_So cute_.'

As the boy seemed to be getting more and more frustrated at himself, he abruptly let out an aggravated huff; less than a second later, his hands whipped out and gracelessly dumped something on the professor's lap.

Startled, Miyagi blinked at the crumpled fabric sitting above his crotch and simply... looked at it.

"That's for you, old man," Shinobu grumbled, now nervously twiddling his thumbs. "A present."

Miyagi glanced at the embarrassed, frustrated blond, then at the pale blue ball of cotton fabric. He hesitantly picked it up and tried soothing it out to maybe figure out what it was supposed to be. He found himself looking at a pillowcase in his hands a second later.

"Wha—"

"Open it, you dummy," Shinobu muttered.

"Open it?" the professor repeated uncertainly. "You put a gift inside of a pillowcase?"

Miyagi wasn't sure if Shinobu's face could possibly get any redder than it was now. He found it entertaining regardless. "I didn't have any wrapping paper or gift bags," the blond said. "But I had an extra pillowcase, so I put the present in there so I didn't have to buy any."

The choice of wrapping was definitely odd, but with this kid that shouldn't have been any surprise. And _why_ the brat would give him some sort of gift was beyond the older man, but he reached into the floppy pillowcase anyway and pulled out even more fabric.

"You bought me a tie?" The professor held the black tie in his hand, letting the material hang in front of his face. It needed ironing (just like the pillowcase, with the way Shinobu carelessly crumbled the two into a wrinkly ball.)

"Yeah... Though it wasn't really the one I _wanted_ to give you—I once sewed a tie like that in high school," the boy said, clearly uncomfortable. "One year, the dumb counsellors decided to place me into a textiles class and I wasn't able to get out of it. I was the only boy there, so I had to make manly things so that nobody would question my masculinity—"

Miyagi couldn't keep back a snort, which Shinobu playfully punched him in the bicep for.

"So I made a tie, which I left at my adoptive parent's house. When I began to think of a present to give to you, for some reason I thought of that tie right away, but since I can't go back and get it, I got this one since it looks the same. I guess it's 'cause you look, um, really good wearing them..."

When the boy trailed off, Miyagi ran his fingers over the material, trying to follow the nearly invisible threads, new found appreciation swelling in his chest for the clothing that Shinobu picked out for him.

"Happy birthday," the blond next to him uttered sheepishly.

"Today's my birthday?" A quick glance to his calendar told him the answer. He hadn't realized that weeks and days had been rapidly passing by him, seeming quicker with every increment of age, but he supposed that was what happened as people got older. "Damn."

"Geez, old man. Forgetting your own birthday."

The two of them exchanged menacing looks, with Miyagi soon after being to first to crack a smile. He was now thirty seven years old, and Shinobu was a few months into being twenty, but their joking banters hardly made the professor feel that they had years of cultural separation between them, or that he was not as young as he had been many years ago. Instead, he just saw them as two men, two human beings on the same planet, who found comfort in each others company.

"...Do you like it?" His grey eyes were trained on Miyagi, attempting to gauge the man's honest opinion. Shinobu was expectant and weary; the professor understood that the kid couldn't do much in terms of getting an exquisite gift, but he was aware that the kid didn't choose something half-assed either. Instead, the young blond opted for something doable and practical for both of them, something that was simple and plain but was also just right.

The man appreciated the unnecessary effort Shinobu put into getting him this tie; he felt adoration for the kid's taste and opinion, and the plain fact that this little necktie was handpicked and given personally by none other than the brat. Miyagi did like the present, and not just because it overall looked nice—if Shinobu had chosen to give him a box of paperclips, or a batch of that awful cabbage stir fry, the man would have felt the same warmness in his chest. It was truly an intimate, cherished feeling to know that he was cared for by another human being, and though some other people cared about him as well, nobody else seemed to deliver the gentle words and caresses as well as Shinobu, whether the boy did it knowingly or not.

And just looking at the kid right now—his concentrated pair of curious eyes meeting his, his twiddling thumbs over his lap, somewhat stiff back, the uncertainty reflecting from his eyes whilst attempting to decipher Miyagi's thoughts—the professor believed it was all so sweet and endearing, even kind of lovely. They were in an odd sort of relationship with one another, considering the gaping gap in social ranking, but despite all common sense and conscious regard for what was supposed to be right through the hawking eyes of society, Miyagi knew that he couldn't remember the last person who he felt so privileged to have in his life like this—if such a human being even existed—and that feeling couldn't be wrong.

Without thought, the older man smiled fondly at the staring boy and shifted to face him more properly and comfortably. His hand reached across the short distance between them, taking Shinobu's chin gently in his fingers. The blond blinked as the man's thumb rubbed affectionately against the area underneath his bottom lip and the man revelled in the feeling of Shinobu's soft skin—the boy must have had a shower shortly before Miyagi got home.

Then he leaned in and placed his lips gently against the still ones of Shinobu. The kid went ridged, eyes gaped open in blatant shock at the older man's unexpected advance. Miyagi allowed his eyes to slide shut—just barely catching the kid begin to flush before he did so—and he pressed their lips together harder, but still gently, tenderly, while his hand moved from the boy's chin to frame around one side of his adorable face.

The man was relaxed against the kiss, lips moving of their own free accord, until, almost too soon, he playfully pulled at the shocked blond's bottom lip and retreated. When he opened his eyes again, still cupping Shinobu's lovely cheek, he had an open view of the beautiful boy—the flourished blush adorning across the expanse of his face and his shocked eyes, with traces of nervousness found deep within their depths. Miyagi wanted to sigh and pull the boy into a suffocating, inescapable embrace for the rest of the evening.

Instead though, he was drawn right back in, free arm winding around Shinobu's waist, and kissing the blond even more.

He felt the kid begin to respond with surprising hesitance, and their lips were soon caressing one another's, warmly and soothingly.

Miyagi soon began to taste a bit of the younger man's lips, gently tracing them with his wet tongue. He rubbed Shinobu's back affectionately, memorizing the feeling of his thin body beneath his fingertips, while his other hand began to weave through his short, blond tresses. When he felt Shinobu begin to shyly probe his own tongue out, the professor moaned silently as their tongues made brief, innocent contact while the boy shuttered gently.

When they reluctantly pulled away from one another, they breathed heavily yet softly, each reading the affection reflecting from one another's half-lidded eyes. Miyagi kept his hands protectively around the flushed boy, while Shinobu had one of his hands weakly clutching the front of Miyagi's shirt, as though not knowing what to do with it but wanting to touch the professor more somehow, even if just slightly.

Miyagi's heart was pounding violently, but with this kid just inches away—his beautiful face, beautiful expression, right in front of him—he couldn't spare any of his attention to go elsewhere. If he could be able to look at and touch this boy forever, he would. He didn't know where these thoughts came from.

His beating heart, the mesmerization, the total euphoria deriving from Shinobu...

...was freaking him out.

So he hastily released Shinobu entirely, scooting a good arm's length away from the blushing blond. "J-Just kidding, brat..." His voice shook and his tone lacked confidence, and fuck, it made the man feel even more conflicted.

Miyagi looked at Shinobu, who was now staring down at his lap, the same tenderness adorning his face as when they had been gazing at each other. The blond was still settling his breathing, which had the professor pondering whether or not the kid ever shared a kiss like that before.

Just when Miyagi was about to say something again or reach over to him or something, the boy slowly shifted and crawled over to the older man. The blond glomped onto the startled professor, arms winding around his neck, face hidden against his collarbone, and sitting pretty much on top of Miyagi's lap.

The older man swallowed anxiously, bringing his arm around the small body, and pressed the two of them even closer, flush against one another.

Then he felt it—Shinobu's heart was _spastic_. It was beating acutely fast, surpassing even the rate of Miyagi's own.

This resulted in the man feeling even more retching anxiety. His mind was racing with paradoxical thoughts and reasoning; he wanted to hold the kid tighter against him as for means of comfort and relaxation, yet in doing so he could feel their heartbeats mingle in unison—effectively making the man increasingly confused with himself.

Although, above the man's nervousness, he did feel happy, albeit in an odd fashion. It was cosy and warm. It felt nice to be clung to, and to cling onto. Their needy gestures were mutually composed, their emotions were both skyrocketing beyond control—their heartbeats in itself substantiated that point. The two of them, at this moment, were equals. Miyagi felt vulnerable in front of his kid, but he aware that Shinobu possessed the same extent of vulnerability at this moment as he did.

They continued to sit there in each other's arms, and as minutes droned on, each relaxing against the other. Soon, all tenseness was alleviated, and they still remained on the couch. Shinobu began cuddling against Miyagi at one point, which the professor accepted, keeping back his urge to chuckle and tease him.

They fell asleep together, tangled up in each other's limbs. Shinobu's head was tucked underneath Miyagi's chin, arm resting gently around the professor's waist, while Miyagi possessively wound his arm around the boy's shoulders. The tie, meanwhile, lied momentarily forgotten on the floor.

After that incident, Shinobu insisted the older man that he come visit _him_ once in a while, at his place. He thought it would only be fair that Miyagi would be his guest once in a while, since he was always Miyagi's guest.

The blond even gave Miyagi a spare key to his place, along with yet another scrap of paper with his address written on it.

Shinobu also stopped coming as much as he did, because he didn't want to risk earning too little and almost getting evicted again. Apparently it was a close call last time, which Shinobu had to stop coming to Miyagi's for three days; the landlord was a stingy hag who had some sort of irrational hatred for young people, despite renting rooms out to them. Shinobu paid the money at the last second, and she in turn croaked that if he was ever going to take so damn long again, she was going to toss his ass out onto the streets.

Miyagi also had a hunch that the boy also wanted to halt visiting the man as much as he did because he felt somewhat guilty for always raiding his fridge and using things that would cause the professor to have increased bills. But when the man inquired if that was the case, Shinobu denied it with averted eyes.

When Miyagi finished at the university, he arrived home on a day when Shinobu decided not to stop by. He sighed in minor disappointment but took his coat off when he walked inside. Instead of settling in the living room or going into the kitchen, he stalked to his bedroom, grabbed a piece of paper and key out of a drawer, put his shoes back on, and was out again.

He read the address written on the paper and drove to his destination.

* * *

He had to park about a block away into some alley when he arrived, because there didn't seem to be any parking space closer that he would be able to use.

The room was part of a rundown three-story apartment building, in the heart of the city's shadiest area. From the outside, Miyagi spotted a few of the windows smashed or poorly concealed by a wooden plank. The building hadn't been washed in possibly decades (or if it had been, they had done a really shitty job at it), and thick masses of moss resided across the roof and such. All in all, if there had been any other reason besides Shinobu for Miyagi to have to step foot near the place, he would have refused it; the man would have thought the building was entirely deserted if it weren't for the boy handing him approximately seven copies of the same written address for him.

At the front door, Miyagi didn't bother to knock. Shinobu had a tendency of barging in without knocking, and the professor figured he was just as entitled to do that himself—why else would Shinobu give him a key? He'd probably be granted with a happy and surprised expression from the boy for stopping by unexpectedly anyway. So he stuck it in the hole and twisted, soon pushing the door open and pulling himself through. He took his shoes off and came inside the tiny place, scrunching his nose at the dirt-decked tiles he was greeted with under his feet, but soon heard noises nearby to distract him from the place's uncleanly state.

His brow rose when there was swift whacking sound and startled, gasping yelp to follow. The man set aside all sense and stalked inside to find out what had happened to cause those noises and to see what Shinobu was doing, if he was even present at all.

He soon rounded a wall and his entire posture stiffened, his expression dropping, heart ruthlessly assaulted in that one split second he looked up at the scene ahead.

Because Shinobu was there, naked, on the floor. With not just _one_ older man with him, but a _number_ of them.

The blond was on all fours, sweating, with his ass perked into the air and being thoroughly pounded from behind by a scarred, muscular man who was on his knees, a triumphant grin on his self-satisfied face. His gaze burned down at the sight of his endowed penis continuously thrusting in and out of Shinobu's flushed ass—slick, squishy, wet noises resounded alongside each of his throaty, guttural grunts.

In front of Shinobu were _two_ men, who were both also kneeling, their fat dicks standing openly on display while Shinobu dutifully took turns sucking each of them down to the base. One of the man's hand was clamping tightly through the kid's damp hair as Shinobu preformed.

And to the side of Shinobu was yet two more men; the beefier, brunet one was laying on the ground on his back, his feet pointing to Shinobu. The other one was on top of him, facing away from the one underneath with his supporting hands on either side of the brunet's torso. His feet were also planted firmly on the ground and his rum was lifted above the man's penis, providing just enough room for the man underneath him to continuously snap his hips up and fuck him. The man who was getting fucked, with his legs spread wide in a crab-like position, was meanwhile receiving a fast, skillful hand job from Shinobu, whilst the boy also concentrated on the men he was blowing, and the guy inside him.

Shinobu was handling all the action professionally, like getting fucked, giving oral, and pumping a cock all at the same time was a simple task, second nature to him. It didn't bother him that the scarred man who was fucking his spread anus was occasionally slapping one of his ass cheeks, which was already bright red from the continual abuse. Shinobu didn't appear fazed when the neglected dick he was momentarily giving a break from sucking would get impatient, and the man would forcefully attempt to shove his own swelling erection inside of Shinobu's mouth, along with the other penis he was sucking.

They were all heavily stimulated by the orgy, glossed in each others sweat, traces of semen and precum on the floor and various places on their bodies (most noticeably to Miyagi was the fluids dribbling down the brat's chin and between his trembling legs). Aside from Shinobu, whose mouth was occupied (aside from the split-second gasp he took when releasing a cock to switch to the other), the guys were groaning lowly in bliss with some profanities hissed in between.

Then, before Miyagi was about to dash back to his car to get the fuck out of there, his brows rose further when the hand that was gripping Shinobu's hair abruptly tugged the boy's mouth away from his dick and pulled them both face to face, hardly an inch of space to separate them.

Shinobu was panting, his body still rocking from the unrelenting force of getting fucked doggy style. The other man who he was originally sucking decided to dive down and blow the man who was pulling Shinobu's hair, while jerking himself off in process—his change in position unintentionally gave Miyagi a clear, perfect view of his ass, making the professor want to gag.

"You whore..." The man sneered in Shinobu's face, fist squeezing painfully tighter through his messy, blond hair. "You _love_ this, don't you... you like sucking and getting pounded by dick—you're such a fucking slut, and you love it, bitch..."

"Yes..." Shinobu breathed in response, panting heavily and allowing his own chain of sinful moans to course throughout the dingy room. "I love it when I have a big, rough penis inside me—" He broke off with a sensual yelp when a large hand ruthlessly collided with his swelling butt cheek again. The man in front of the boy and the one who made the loud slap guffawed in unison before Shinobu continued speaking. "Give it to me, fucker..."

The man had a wicked smirk on his face from listening to the blond. "Of course, little bitch."

Miyagi cringed when the douche then pulled Shinobu's face even closer and sloppily shoved his tongue in the kid's mouth. The professor turned even more horrified when the young blond responded more than a little eagerly to the rough kiss.

At that point, there was no way Miyagi could bare to stand there for another second—he _needed_ to get out of there.

The man exited the house, shutting the front door more harshly than he'd intended to, not that the six people inside would be able to hear it over their own vocal sounds. Miyagi entered his car and quickly began to drive out onto the road, away from the scene he'd just witnessed.

He kept his gaze directed onto the road, the racing vehicles, passing pedestrians, the brightly coloured traffic lights—the man tried calming his tight breathing and the painful throbbing within his chest.

He tried not to pay attention to the way his body was slowly beginning to succumb to the emotions he was feeling—emotions that he wanted to repress and shove away and get the fuck out of his system...

Instead of looking at the way his hands were trembling over the steering wheel, Miyagi focused on whatever was in front of him. He wanted only to think of getting home and maybe mindlessly indulging in literature or whatever food he had in the fridge.

But his memories were repetitively replaying all things related to Shinobu that he did _not_ want to be reminded of—Shinobu on the ground, Shinobu stripped naked, Shinobu selling his body to other men, Shinobu leaning over and getting _fucked_ by these nasty people.

And as these untamed thoughts kept billowing through his conscious against the man's very will, all of the tightness inside, getting just about ready to _implode_, only got harsher and made it difficult for the professor to concentrate on anything else...

His eyes began to sting, which was too soon followed by tearfulness. At that point, he couldn't stand to drive any further, no matter how badly he wanted to; his vision was too blurry to see clearly and his heart felt too betrayed and violated to even think right.

He pulled over into a vacant alleyway, shut the engine off, breathed a heavy breath to try and calm down his frazzled interior. Miyagi slumped back into his seat with a heavy hand pulling on locks of ebony hair, hoping that the wetness in his eyes would go away, leave him be, and not even dare to try and slide down his cheeks.

No matter how hard he tried to resist it, the professor couldn't get that repulsive image out of his head. He couldn't stop thinking back on the way Shinobu all too compliantly allowed for his body to be used in that manner and the way the blond himself responded to all the belittlement.

Miyagi hated the way the scene looked—it didn't suit Shinobu at all, not compared to the times when he'd stammer nervously, make sweet gestures, and blush adorably. He liked the boy he was so used to teasing and arguing with, the little hard ass who was also a horrible cook and extremely sensitive on the inside, despite the blond always attempting to hide it...

Over the past while, that was what Miyagi had been thinking of nonstop. His image of the kid had conformed around that picture, and he'd been so close to believing that Shinobu was such a lovely kid with integrity and purity and _innocence_.

Somehow he'd allowed himself to forget about the Shinobu he'd known originally. The one who'd have no problem luring older men and having his way with them, cleaning out their wallets, and leaving the scene to go out and find another. Miyagi made himself block out thoughts pertaining to the little blond who'd do drugs, steal things, have mindless sex with strangers—the kid had even managed to seduce _him_, as well. He wanted to stop believing that Shinobu was really a male prostitute, and somehow he'd manage to fool himself into believing it.

He'd forgotten that crucial fact, the most important actuality regarding Shinobu that he needed to, and _should_ have, retold himself each day. Or rather, the man constantly tried to _avoid_ the facts, the reality of the entire situation. Miyagi attempted convenience for himself and built a fantasy life involving him and Shinobu, building a wall around that and disregarding everything that defied what he wanted true.

He began to wonder at what point did he decide to place a mask over his own eyes and censor the truth from himself. And now he didn't know what the fuck to do; the way he reacted to seeing Shinobu getting handled was much more effective than before he'd begun to spend time with him. He'd never thought the sight of someone else kissing Shinobu, those same lips he'd kissed himself just a couple days ago—the sweetest pair of lips he'd ever tasted in his_ life_—would be so devastating and heart wrenching to view.

The man didn't know how the future looked for him now. He'd never _felt _for someone like this, and as much as he didn't want to, it also didn't seem very probable for him to undo the accumulation of all these feelings. He didn't think he'd be able to live like this, and Miyagi didn't know what the fuck to do about it.

And internally, he was really, really freaking out about it.

* * *

**AN**: People have no idea how happy I am to have this chapter finished. And sorry, I don't like writing lemons and don't do them often at all, so I probably shouldn't have tried to add a sixsome there. But it was a part of the story and didn't want to omit or tone it down, yet like any other sex scene I do, I didn't get into much detail about it, so... yeah. Poor Miyagi, right? ^^ Bleh, I don't know.

I'm curious to know what people think of this chapter, because I personally found most of it more on the boring side xD Obviously most of its purpose was to develop a proper relationship between the two. The next chapter will be full of drama and I'm looking forward to writing it :D

Also, also! I made a Tumblr that focuses solely on my writing progress; any time I work on a story and get a bit done, I'll calculate how complete the chapter is and post it on the blog (for example, whatever fic is 69% finished.) So far this has just been for myself to look at, but I figured that since it's there, other people can see it if they want to know how far I'm done on something. I'll put the link on the profile, if anyone wants to follow it. It's very nerdy, I know.


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